Spirits of Life and Death
by Ala Cye
Summary: Five spirits to decide fate, a collapsing kingdom, a marching army, a betraying abbess, and the humble abbeybeasts, forced to take up the fact of war. We could say the sky is falling, except for it's not that, but that the world is dying...what can we do?
1. Chapter 1

Ripples over the running water blurred the reflections of lush greenery lining the banks. Small waves combed the mud that stood, wet on the riverside. A dark shape lurked in the waters, and rose up to the surface, looking to be a large pike. Dangling his paws in the water, the scarlet-furred mouse watched the pike, which seemed to be grinning slyly, as the mouse took out a small blade of silver and drew it on his wrist, and dropped a few droplets of blood in the water. The deep red contrasted with the clear transparent water, and soon seemed to disappear from sight as it melted into the river. Glasslike particles of water flew from the bobbing surface, as the pike madly churned the river at the scent of blood. Chuckling slightly, the mouse turned his attention to an odd figure beside him. It resembled a red fox, a vixen, which seemed to be fading, and transparent, somewhat like what one would expect a ghost to be.

"Miste, I need blood…why…to that pike? I need death…death…Where is my dear Death…where?" The red fox spoke in an odd voice, chattering, as the red tinge in her fur seemed to be fading, in an impossible way.

"Drelda, I gave you that hedgehog yesterday. Wasn't that enough for you and Death? Too much peace in Mossflower again, eh? Need some war, bloodshed, death…Don't you think so?"

Smiling eerily at the scarlet furred mouse, the red vixen spoke. "Miste, you aught to respect me some more…I need more blood…I am the spirit of it…blood…Ah…here comes Death…"

An ivory black fox seemed to appear by Miste's side, frowning solemnly as he regarded the mouse. "Miste, we need…we need…blood…death…death…too much life and prosperity here…no one is dying…anymore…blood…death…where?" His pelt seemed to fade and disappear, changing into light gray, or just completely disappear.

The scarlet-furred mouse's eyes seemed to all of a sudden burn with a dreadful black intensity, like dead ashes somehow seeping back to a colorless life. The almond curve of his eyes seemed to emphasize the dead black color, and grinning insanely, the mouse took up his silver knife, and strode away, more silent than any leaf on the breeze. Drelda picked up a flask, and went off. Death, apparently was gone. To possess, to kill…he and Drelda both lived on one thing…blood, and death.

Treading softly on fallen leaves and branches, Drelda soon found what she wanted – a laburnum tree. Taking a large dock leaf, she used it as a glove as she grabbed leaves, bark, flowers, anything from the tree to stuff in the flask. When it was full, she closed the flask, and took at another one, and searched for another thing – hemlock. Padding around in the lush woods, and after curious finding, another flask appeared full, this time of hemlock. Here, her two flasks held enough poison to bring down the entire Redwall Abbey…but that would be for later…for now, she needed Miste to bring some blood out to see Aunt Drelda and Uncle Death. Miste…yes…

Miste was on his way, possessed by Death, as he led himself to a farmhouse he knew well. It was abandoned, but often a raft of passerby's would come on the river which flowed nearby as a tributary of the great Mossflower River. Miste covered his scarlet fur with vegetation from the watermeadow nearby the house, and left one of his paws sticking out, like a beautiful flower. Minutes drew into slow hours, as he waited for the next passerby's to come along…

Dangling her paws in the slowly running water, Verbena felt a luxuriant calm in the warm air, as the hedgehogs she had been traveling with went off to paddle in the lush water meadow. Fruits and berries grew in mass abundance, and water lilies with delicate white petals floated and danced among the lily pads which drifted about the surface. She and her sister, Thrift had been allowed a private mission from Salamandastron – to track down the Spirit. Lord Deimer had allowed her to feign a relaxation time, in order to not arouse the suspicions of others, or to not worry those abroad the Mossflower Woods. She knew barely a scraping about the Spirit – only travelers had told her about them. Only one in a score would ever live to see the Spirit and tell about it and the travelers described the Spirit as a scarlet-furred mouse who seemed to be able to take control of the most wild of beasts, a beast-tamer. Those who ever lived to fight it noted an odd aura which complimented the two obsidian black eyes which set a fearsome appearance to the face, which always seemed to be set in either a solemn frown or an insane laugh. They mostly seemed to 'meet' the spirit, by the same trick – attempting to pick a scarlet flower, the seemingly most beautiful type used to grace a home of that time, which usually the lone traveler did. Then, the Spirit would pounce, and most of times, left none to tell the tale. Every time, that was the trap, and it was scarcely known by any. Most travelers attacked by the Spirit were so severely maimed; they usually never survived in the end. Verbena had warned her sister and the hedgehogs to report immediately to her if they saw the unique flower, as most cases like these occurred in well concealed water meadows, or thick woodlands. She made sure they stuck in one area, so just in case of attack, yet inwardly she knew it would not be enough to scare a young hog from heading towards any pretty scarlet flower. There was quite a few scarlet flowers in the area, so there was no way for her to be sure of avoiding the Spirit. She avoided speaking of it, just mentioning the Spirit in the form as 'H'a jolly ole vermin band wandering, can't be sure, bally h'annoying, wot!' Peering lazily through half closed eyes, Verbena did not feel unduly worried – it was quite unlikely for the Spirit to appear at this time of day, as most attacks seemed to be from at night, or late evening.

Death had exited from Miste's body, and merely chuckled slyly as he watched the scarlet furred mouse lie half submerged in the water, invisible to the outside, as he just resembled a place where the land had gone shallower, allowing clusters of weeds and flowers to grow in the form a bush in a part of the water meadow. With the paw not sticking in the air, the mouse had drew a needle-like dagger, small and thin, yet very long, and almost like a hedgehog spike, except for much longer. He had fashioned it out of a chipped cutlass lying discarded on the ground, rusted completely away in parts, and so taking the time of many days, he had evenly chipped the uselessly heavy blade into a thin, slim needle of considerable length. Tied to an odd necklace around his neck was a small bag, made of a small portion of adderskin. It contained a deadly amount of venom, from the same dead adder, and if the mouse ever wished to make a swift kill, all he would do, would be to delicately insert the tip of his thin dagger into the bag, and then stab, while inserting the lethal venom at the same time. The scarlet mouse was indeed a murderous being of his species. It was not for nothing Silayiver had named him The Spirit's Miste. With practiced stealth, he looked through a small hole in the vegetation, and spied a young hogmaid heading towards his position. As she drew near, he pulled his paw back in his little 'hideout,' which obviously intrigued her. She stepped closer, and parting the bushes, she found her screams muffled as she was pulled down into the water. As she rapidly lost the precious oxygen she needed, she found a deep red paw clasped around her mouth, and then she was slowly raised to the surface. Breathing deeply, she then turned around, to see a scarlet mouse grinning insanely at her, a black fox seemingly floating alongside the mouse, smiling also. She tried to scream out, but failed to as a searing pain arose from her paw. The agony knocked her out unconscious in the space of a whipcrack, and still, at that time, nobeast had noticed her disappearance. They never did, until much later that day, in late evening. By that time, it was, of course, too late.

Verbena swore she knew something like this would happen, even though she had wished against it her entire time there. The young hogmaid Buttercup had been captured – refusing to believe it was the truth, Verbena had immediately roused a search party when the news had reached her. The motherly hare inwardly knew there was little chance she would find Buttercup, alive or dead. Verbena mentally cursed herself as she thought of the innocently pretty face of the young hedgehog, due to her own protective nature over others. She numbly watched her trackers help her find any trace of the Spirit, but she knew they would not find anything – the Spirit was well famed to never have been able to be tracked down. After several back-breaking hours, dispirited and demoralized, the small party had returned to the clustered nervous groups of hedgehogs still waiting upon the raft. Upon telling them they could find nary a trace of the young hedgehog, many broke into tears, and Verbena almost choked back her will to tell them about the Spirit. Yet, she and Thrift managed to cough and choke their knowledge about the Spirit between outbursts of crying. Many outraged screams from their sniffling audience made Verbena feel the lumps of guilt wash over her, like standing beneath a weeping willow during a rainstorm, with the branches drooping down, showering leaves of shame. She could not bring herself to believe she had already failed at her mission, already, only a week after she had been sent off by Lord Deimer. After her morbid speech stating her grief and shame over Buttercup, and all her knowledge relating to the Spirit, Verbena pretended to go to sleep, and waited for all the heavy thumping of walking hedgehogs' footpaws to stop. Then, she tiptoed out of her bed softly grabbing a warm cotton tunic and stood guard inside by the door of the main cabin of the sleepers who slept, racked by grief and rage. As she made sure, all the hedgehogs were in the main cabin of the single raft, and only she was awake. The raft drifted on the still waters, as it lay, immobile and unmoving on the dark waters of the silent water meadows. Forcing her eyes open, Verbena warded off sleep fiercely, and was extremely glad when her sister Thrift came to join her, and they both took their swords – beautiful weapons, forged by the badger lord himself, and stood guard resolutely, promising not to let another life to fall to the cruel Spirit's paws. Their swords glinted in the dim light a firefly lantern provided, and the rare blue steel of the swords seemed to make the dark black-blue skies of outside seem darker than ever before. The silver crosshilts adjoined to the hilts, which were wrapped in a black cloth. A deep-sea blue sapphire formed the pommel stone of both hares' swords. This complimented their slim yet strong frames, which stood bold and powerful in the shadows the dim firefly lantern provided.

Buttercup awoke to a throbbing pain in her arm, as she struggled to sit upright. A dark black fox and a deep red vixen stood grinning fearsomely by the stone platform she had been laid on. A scarlet mouse joined them; smiling just as eerily holding a thin hollow glass tube, full of blood. Then, she noticed a small but extremely painful puncture in the upperside of her elbow which was leaking blood rapidly into a large half-full basin. Deep red stains fringed with brown surrounded the place around her arm, as the mouse raised a rather large staff, and again knocked her rather hard on the forehead, which sent her spinning back into unconsciousness.

North of the Mossflower river, a large multitude of beasts were collected in a makeshift camp, and as the evening rays shone, campfires and cooking victuals could be smelled. A short distance away from the busy beasts, a separate tent was erected, for the horde leader.

"M'lord, we're ready, so when d' we march?" A sleek grey vixen clad in a simple black tunic marched up to another beast, another fox, this time night black and much taller and deadlier looking than the grey fox that stood in front of her. The black fox stood a full head taller than the vixen standing in front of her, and her black crystal eyes seem to glow among the glistening dark fur, complementing the embroidered black scarf she wore. That was the only thing that made everybody know when they witnessed her eerie presence. Staring at the grey fox in front of her, she stared at her with harsh intimidating eyes for an unbearable few seconds, and then spoke in a melodious voice.

"We march at dawn. Pearl, arouse Rynn and Rahaak. Tell them to prepare the army – make sure all the soldiers eat and rest well tonight, for we do have an important day to accomplish tomorrow." Here, the night black fox stopped and grinned eerily, in such a way it made even the battle hardened fox, Pearl, shudder as she bowed dutifully and exited the pale birch-bark colored tent.

Later, as Pearl contacted the slim willowy ferret assassin Rynn, and the black obsidian crow leader Rahaak, the black fox squatted in a flowing manner, and took out a well sized packet – containing several bones, feathers, and herbs, as well as a half-empty vial of blood. Unlike most horde leaders, she had adapted to the ways of the seer herself, and took the utmost care as she gently tossed the bones, each splattered with one or two drops of blood. Examining them closely, she then took out a rather large blood red feather, and burned it as slowly as possible, letting the fragments burn a bright sandstone red and pink before they burned brown, then black in the flames. Finally, she took out a well crinkled and dried herb – it was so deformed it was unrecognizable. Yet the black vixen seer took it, and in one sleek movement, thrust it into the glowing red embers, which sent out a large billow of smoke that rose. After studying the disappearing figures of the black smoke, she extinguished the fire by smothering it with a pile of dirt, and with a swift call, a soldier nervously strode in the tent, presented her a well cooked wood-pigeon, along with a delicate beaker of wine. With a brief nod, the dark furred vixen dismissed the nervous weasel-soldier, and watched the sun set from a bright purple-pink and red sky, which sent a few meek rays of light into the relatively dark area of her tent. Eating her food in silence, she watched with cunning bright eyes as the soldiers scurried about. She had been well in separating her horde – a half score she-beasts she had promoted to cooks, another score as servers and tent packers, a half score spies, trackers, and scouts, three captains, and the rest scores upon scores of soldiers. All of them were fighters, for in her horde, it was the law to be able to protect yourself with wit and scheme, or die. As she examined her horde members, she again called the nervous weasel-soldier and the skinny beast hurriedly collected her dish and cup, then departed, leaving the black vixen in a dark silence. Making sure the sentries for camp were posted, the fox admitted two of her faithful spies to stand sentry for her tent, as she strode to her makeshift bed, and with little trouble fell asleep.

Abbess Renn was an odd abbey member – unlike the others, she seemed to appreciate alone time more than most. This particular evening, she walked along the perimeter of the abbey building walls, watching through half closed eyes laughing and playing Dibbuns scampering about the orchard. The sun had just set, dying the sky a clear blue in the west that faded into deeper tones as one looked to the east. Abbess Renn had been put to some odd forced of nature, where her fur had been pure white, except for at her ear and tailtips and muzzle, there was an odd blue tinge. Her paws had also been affected by this strange birth effect, which gave her the odd appearance that she was always a cold, calm beast. She was not from the abbey, as the elder beasts knew – they had found her in a burnt down house, close to St. Ninians, close to death, laying by an older mouse much alike her, who had already died. The abbey elders had assumed a vermin band had killed the mother somewhere else, than coming back to the house, they had then killed the father and severely injured the young mouse. She had been made Abbess by Martin, who had sensed an odd aura about her, which told him enough that she would be an important factor in the future of Mossflower. He knew not why, but he just carried out the best thing to do – to make her Abbess, so that was what he had done. Renn had always been a lonely beast, yet she loved her abbey, but not to the extent that she would really die for it – to her, it was another house, that could one day be destroyed, for even it was not invincible. Sometimes, she dreamed of these six pearls and a black fox looming in the shadows behind them, other times she dreamed of five foxes, mist-like, and dancing around like spirits. Other times she saw vermin hordes marching to defeat Redwall. All of them were nightmares.

Silayiver sat in his realm of dreams as he watched fate unfold itself. Horde's marching, beasts dying, all of this was displayed on an aged map, perhaps older than time, which portrayed everything in Mossflower, and looking over it, one could easily see travelers, soldiers, anything. It was like a real game come to life – one could see beasts marching and walking and running to and fro. Beside him sat four foxes – Drelda and Death sat on his left, a grey-brown fox and a snow colored one sitting to his right. They watched the Fate Map unfold the future, slowly watching beasts die and live, live and die. As Drelda and Death were the two lords of death and misery, the other two were the opposite – the lords of life and hard-earned prosperity.


	2. Chapter 2

Buttercup awoke again, to a throbbing pain in her skull along with a agonizing sting resting on her arm. As she slowly recalled the bits of what she remembered, she kept her eyelids closed, hoping not to attract the attention of the scarlet mouse who was hanging around the two fox-beasts, who she assumed finally were spirits, or something like that. Opening her eyelid the miniscule crack, she saw them staring at her, watching her every movement. She had been moved while being unconscious – she now was tied to a tree, her waist and legs immobile, but her head and arms able to reach the basin of fresh water lying at her feet. Seeing the water stir slightly with a faint breeze, Buttercup suddenly realized how thirsty she was. Her lips were dried and cracked, and she could barely utter a sound. Weakly straining for the basin, she feebly croaked once, and then the mouse disappeared, returning with another bowl of food, well cooked corn stew. The hedgehog allowed rivulets of water to trickle down her throat, and feeling her strength come back, she wolfed down the stew hungrily, and mentally thought perhaps this group of oddbeasts perchance were really not so vile as she thought. She gave a sated sigh, and looked up, to see again, the trio staring at her oddly. Feeling rather ashamed of her sudden un-ladiness, the poor young hedgehog practically blushed as they had a whispered conference. At last, the haunted looking mouse spoke.

"I am the Spirit, Buttercup." Showing quite some surprise at the odd mouse knowing her name, she absently nodded as he continued speaking.

"We originally captured you to sate the spirits' call for blood and death. That meant you were to die." Here, the hedgehog nervously gulped as he continued speaking in a dirge-like tone. "However, there is to be a war soon – war means more blood and death than we could extract out of a young creature like you. So, we will free you. We will follow you back to your camp, and you are not permitted to say a word about what you knew about us. You will say that a vermin band attacked you, and then one night a squirrel from Redwall helped you to escape. If you do not stick to that story, your life may as end right now anyway." Skillfully twirling his thin dagger, and suddenly threw it. The tiny point carved through the trunk, until only the hilt was visible, seeming to rest just above the startled hedgehog's head. Now shivering uncontrollably, Buttercup lay stiller than a rock on a calm day, as her bonds fell from her with two rapid slashes from the mouse's thin yet lethal blade.

"Go now." Automatically obeying his order, the frightened young hedgehog dashed away, straight back to the path she had spotted behind the fearsome trio's backs. Sighing, Miste arose and took up another tool he had thrust into his belt – a stick, to which many herbs such as mint and other woodland items like dock leaves were tied to. Following the path of the hedgehog, he carefully eliminated any trace of life, any sign that a trio of beasts and a hedgehog had ever existed in that area of the forest. When he turned back, Death was waiting alongside Drelda, and with a curt nod, they continued traveling, searching…searching for the beasts who would promise war, death, and blood…the items that nature so strongly required to balance the existence of beasts in Mossflower woods. Muttering just under his breath, Death spoke to Drelda.

"Life and Bysrelty will pay…they will pay for all this life…they cannot…no, they cannot take over the realms…Silayiver…where has the law of balance in life gone…where Silayiver…where?"

That night, Verbena and Thrift stood by the door of the cabin, resolutely promising to not let another poor beast be taken. Yet somehow luck had favored them that morning. They had anchored in the water meadow the night before, and the pink streaks of meek dawn rays shyly nudged the colors of dark blue and black away from the sky, and Verbena had taken the beauty only lightly, mostly thinking about Buttercup. Intently staring at the foliage, she scanned for any beast that was traveling, than all of a sudden heard a rapid rustling. Readying her sword, she silently nudged her sister Thrift, and stealthily headed towards the sounds of rustling bushes. When the noise seemed to be just a few feet away, the two sisters raised their swords, and nearly swung them, but were taken by surprise when they saw Buttercup, fear dotted on her features, but it was overtaken by joy when she saw the raft. Seeing the young hedgehog, Verbena whooped, and rejoiced with the ecstatic crew as they fought for a chance to hug or comfort the poor hedgehog. As obvious, they asked her where she had been, and she only spoke what the Spirit had told her to say. Believing her, the distressed hedgehogs took up their arms, and began marching to Redwall. If what she said was true, than they had ought to go thank the beast there at Redwall. So off they marched, unwittingly traveling perhaps only five score paces ahead of the army advancing behind them...the horde which was only just across the Mossflower River…

Miste, Death, and Drelda had eagerly traveled the rest of the day, knowing soon there was to be a devastating war to happen at Redwall. Miste had contacted his other friend, Asvyrel, a female squirrel, who like Miste was a beast that served the spirits of blood and death. Like Miste, she had a distinguished scarlet fur tone, and usually didn't hold much social activity with the abbey members – a loner, adopted to the abbey. She often spent her days sleeping away on the high branch of a tall tree, or nimbly searching the woodlands for Death and Drelda. Her main job at the abbey was to convince little Dibbuns or otherbeasts to go out in the woodlands, so to be captured by Miste. She had been sent to do this, because unlike the mouse, Asvyrel had quite the glib tongue do when put under tight situations, she was able to talk her way out of severe problems. She had not recently contacted Death or Drelda, and because she also knew about the coming war, she waited rather nervously, a rather rare feeling she ever experienced. Abbess Renn had been out searching for her, and though the abbess never seemed to really love her abbey, she did look after some beasts she really cared for. One of those was Asvyrel – the squirrel had never really bothered her too much, or really pressed on the fact she shouldn't be Abbess. The two beasts felt an odd relationship, an almost secret one too, and their solitary thoughts usually matched each others. This particular morning, Asvyrel had decided to go out into the woodlands to find the two spirits and the mouse, yet for some reason Abbess Renn was searching for her, but searching fruitlessly. Both were practiced in the woodland ways of covering tracks, hidings, and tracking, yet they knew each other too well. If Asvyrel wanted to hide, nobeast would find her. After hiding for several long minutes up in a tree, scarlet fur framed against bright glowing sandstone walls, Abbess Renn finally gave up her search, and returned inside, letting the sly squirrel to escape without notice. Almost automatically, she bounded to the hidden spot in the woodlands – the spirits' and her meeting place. Waiting patiently, she listened hard past the sounds of rustling leaves dancing in the ancient old trees, and intently focused to here the one sound of the 'traditional' greeting – a dove's trilling cry. She was rewarded after minutes of tensed listening, and then, hearing the soft but distinct pawsteps on soil, she raised her voice, and sang out, perfectly imitating a singing dove on an early morning. Unlike what most would think, she actually had quite a beautiful voice, though she normally kept to a low but melodious drawl. Answering her cry, Miste voiced out the sound of a cheeping young sparrow, made perfect due to many times of practice, even through his originally flowing speak. Amazingly rapidly and in complete silence, he darted behind the large beech in which Asvyrel perched upon. Then, he grasped a thick vine, began a rapid ascent. Death and Drelda drifted behind him, taking idle time to watch the scarlet furred mouse climb skillfully on the strong green rope-vine. The four beasts and spirits met up at a well concealed platform, made up of small wooden planks adjoined together. After an awkward silence, Drelda spoke.

"Asvyrel. I see you wanted to talk to us. For what reason? I believe you know that there is to be a war soon…blood…death…finally…" She broke off, grinning wildly, and practically purring in anticipation.

"Yes, Drelda. I am also glad that the war is to come, finally. What I want to know is when it should start, and when I should leave the abbey. Also…of course, there's the last thing as well…Life and Bysrelty…"

Verbena had allowed the hedgehogs to take their time mooring their raft safely in a hidden cave by the river. The process took over half the morning, and after that, they had a healthy lunch. After the time when most the hedgehogs had finished, the packed up their supplies, and started a jaunty march along the path down to Redwall. Some even sang some cheery ditties to keep the company in correct pawstep, when all of a sudden, an elderly hedgehog named Felys who was marching in the back gave a scream and gurgled as an arrow marked him right below the shoulder. Automatically looking back, Thrift all of a sudden noticed a large horde of vermin marched silently and swiftly at their heels, with perhaps a score archerbeasts marching behind a rank of those holding large shields up forming a wall. Practically screeching with something close to terror, she immediately hustled the group forward and grasped Felys not noticing his spines and followed them in sheer terror. They almost bumped into the other vermin who stood, blocking the path. In well formation, the spear-vermin menaced the hedgehogs from behind a rank of shield holders. Feeling the blood of her war-hardened ancestors, Verbena roared the famouse battle-cry of the mountain hares as Thrift joined her in a fearsome battle, unsheathing her magnificent sword and leaping wildly they together slashed down three beasts, but were soon surrounded, and truly captured. Roaring madly they fought with every ounce of strength they possessed, but they were forced to a tree trunk held sideways by multitudes of slaves, the branches chopped off, chains and manacles of metal embedded in them, and several other slaves already chained to it, their eyes dull and gray, scattered with a few specks of pity glittering in their eyes. Menaced at their necks with spears, with swords pointing at their chests, they were forcefully chained to the bare tree trunk. They were put in the last row of slaves, where the tree was the heaviest and proved the biggest weight for them, so it would be harder for them to move and keep up. After that, the vermin soldiers managed to capture the hedgehogs without much resistance. After a short break for the soldiers and feeding time for the slaves, they resumed marching. The tree trunk was a huge annoyance for Verbena, as it was so heavy, and only a few slaves were chained to it, so there were barely any beasts to lift it. The vermin horde continued marching, speedily and evenly, with the rows of slaves following, a half-score beasts to keep the slaves in order, and two score vermin soldiers to keep the horde together. By evening they were camped right by the abbey, but just out of sight. During the evening break, Verbena helped her sister Thrift remove Felys' spines embedded in her paws, and also managed to spot the leader, a night black vixen. She sat beside an ermine, who was carefully tending to Felys as if he were one of the ermine's kin, as well as tending to the three vermin soldiers who had fallen to her mad rampage. Thinking about the sight made Verbena wonder, what was the goal of this odd horde? Like the ordinary vermin beasts, they slaved woodlanders, yet they were helping the injured slaves, feeding them food that was really better than just scraps, and amazingly, unlike most groups of vermin, they planned well, and were in complete order. Eating her bits of fruit, berries, and her mug of hot water, she thought about her surroundings in silence, and when she was done, the vermin soldiers hurriedly returned and took her mug and scrutinized the other slaves. Feeling tiredness and depression spread over her, she stretched as best as she could with the tree trunk chained to her forepaws, and yawning, she settled down for sleep, using the trunk as a pillow. Her ideas had deserted her, as she had been disarmed in her combat, her beautiful sword taken. Nightmares and dreams flooded in her as sleep came.

Bounding down from their tree hideout, two scarlet blurs flashed downwards and at the base of a majestic beech. With a laconic farewell, the two went their separate ways, Asvyrel back to the abbey, with the two spirits trailing behind her, and Miste to Brockhall…to see the fearsome mother of the adders…Zalyss. She had formed an extraordinary friendship with Miste – she had been coiled around her eggs, sleeping, when a seagull oddly appeared from nowhere and attacked her unawares, and she had almost been sent a fatal stab to the spine, when Miste had appeared and threw his thin dagger accurately at the spot right beneath the hard dangerous beak, hitting it unconscious with the hard pommel stone of the unique blade. Tying it up, Miste had taken the seagull back to the Mossflower River. From then, he had developed a silent relationship and had acted as Zalyss' own bodyguard, until her three own young adders had hatched, and she had since then always kept a truce and a rather kind friendship to him…indeed, as the few beasts who actually knew him knew him to be something of a beast-tamer…together with all those he had formed friendships with, Miste would most likely be unstoppable…

Watching her new prisoners with bright eyes behind half-closed lids, she scanned the eyes of them – they showed her emotions that they failed to show. Rage, sadness, grief, depression, or even all of those were mixed in the eyes of the new slaves. The luster of their pupils seemed to tell a story all of their own. The black-furred lady stroked her black kilt and cloak pensively, and watched the older slaves look towards her and bow lightly, tugging at the newer ones to do the same. After scanning the new hedgehog slaves, she strode softly on the earthy path towards the resting two hares she held prisoner. They both lay in slumber, and beckoning quietly to two guards, she whispered to them.

"Ayda, Casthe, bring me these two beasts' blades. Bring another half-score soldiers as well, all spearbeasts. Bring Rynn as well." Dismissing them from her, she keenly heard their footpaws patter across the ground swiftly. Returning her steady gaze to the relaxed hares, she watched them breathe smoothly in and out. The night black fox mentally reviewed her plans of the future – to somehow enter the abbey of red sandstone, or if by need tear it down to find the lost treasure of the castle which had been taken down during some anonymous wildcats' rule. Everybody in the horde was knowledgeable of the hidden thing that she longed for…The sapphire, emerald, and ruby of the lost crown, the former symbol of the world…The gems that would promise her rule of Mossflower and the lands beyond. That was it, but many would mistake her for taking down the abbey…for indeed, they would need to search the underground remains…and that without permission would be quite impossible without taking down the abbey as well…she already held six pure white pearls perfectly identical to each other, the sisters of the pearls of Lutra, yet they were only baubles to hold her and her captains' ranks…the jet black vixen shook herself lightly back into reality as the dim pawsteps of her soldiers arrived to her senses. Beckoning to the guards Ayda and Casthe, she took the two swords, as well as a spear, and handing one sword to a sleek-furred beast, a wiry and tall ferret, she gently tapped the two sleeping hares awake with the butt end of the spear. Verbena woke easily as well as Thrift, and instinctively put herself on guard as she saw the dozen or so guards surrounding her. Then, she pretended to relax casually and kept up a falsely cheery pretence.

"Wot ho, jolly chap. Come t' fight us again, wot wot, plain top hole! C'mon ole chum, y'don't say you're not goin' t' do it, eh, wot? Tsk, bally sad wot, vermin, cowardly ole streaks o' slime, no 'eart in what they do, wot wot." Attempting to provoke her captors into a fight, Verbena saw that her efforts were wasted, because all the vermin looked as if they hadn't even heard her. She saw Thrift clench her fists as the night black vixen, obviously the leader, strode forward. Thrift whispered a rapid message to Verbena before confronting the tall fox.

"Hoi, jolly chum sis, look, tha' bally ole vermin chap 'as our swords, donchaknow, wot! Leave 'er t' me, I'll fix that nasty ole vermin beastie, don't ye worry, ole sis. Top hole plan, eh?" Taking a boxing position, Thrift watched the fox approach. Staying perfectly within reach of both their footpaws for a kick, she greeted them.

"Greetings, my new slaves. Though I find this pointless, I will have myself known as Tear, but of course do to my rank, and things of that cause, I only permit you to address me as lord, or milady, slave. As I have no use for emotionless slaves, I'd like to give back your blades, under a condition that you will not draw them at my soldiers, if you draw your swords, the one to attack would obviously be me, and if you did that, your other sister would die by my hand, or by grief. Also, if you draw it to battle me, I shall battle you fair and square. But for now, you will not try doing this, because you are chained, and so as forth you cannot unsheathe your swords. My soldiers will now buckle them for you, and if you try protesting, sadly, I will have to kill one or the other of you, and I shall therefore keep the blades for myself. One more thing, I do not go unarmed." At this, Tear had a beautifully keen rapier ripple out of a sheathe hidden in her cloak, and expertly crossed blades with her captain, Rynn, who just let a saber flow just as easily in motion to protect himself from the powerful swing of his lord. However, he found himself unable to protect himself when she rapidly moved her blade, disarming him. Smiling, the willowy ferret drew a dagger from beneath his own cloak, and backed off cautiously to retrieve his own saber. Then, as he re-sheathed his saber, Rynn tossed his dagger from left paw to right, and in a swift flowing motion perhaps even matching lightning for speed, he threw it, so accurately, it lay right beside Thrift's grounded leg, so close it was almost caressing her fur with its cold steel blade. Calling to Ayda, Rynn commanded the she-weasel to retrieve the dagger, and so Ayda picked it up, with no sign really showing her nervousness at getting so close to the boxing hare. Grinning slyly, Rynn took the small blade from her, and made a short show of the many daggers he kept in his belt as he pushed back his cloak to put the dagger in its own position. Bowing, he took up Verbena's sword from the ground where he had dropped while in combat with Tear. Tear handed Thrift her Salamandastron blade, as Rynn handed Thrift hers, as they backed off, Tear to her tent to see to her seer's craft, and Rynn back to the captains' tents, and the soldiers back to their separate squads' tents.

"Asvyrel!" Abbess Renn looked at the red blur which flashed from the battlements. The odd squirrel had always formed a distant friendship with her, and never rejected her for her cold behavior or thoughts of the abbey.

"Yes abbess, I went to visit my family again." Though she knew it was a lie, she almost frowned at the thought of Miste, Death, or Drelda as part of her family. Though Abbess Renn practically knew it was a lie, she did not probe further.

"Mmmm. I suppose you've had dinner – it is quite late out, so you should go back to the dormitory to tuck in Milena, she's been waiting for you to come up all day. Anyway, I hope you don't go tomorrow; I want to see you at the walltop races during tomorrow's midsummer feast. Fare you a good sleep, my friend." Renn watched Asvyrel dart off to the abbey building with natural speed.

Asvyrel softly treaded on the red sandstone as she entered the building, and swiftly moved to Milena's dormitory room. Milena was different from the other dibbuns – she preferred elders' company to the childish games of the others. She had soft tan fur, which went along nicely with her sparkling green eyes. Her only real companion was Asvyrel, the scarlet squirrel, who actually treated her like a grown-up, as her heart was. As the squirrel silently crept into her room, Milena silently arose out of bed, and padded to her, and hugged her tightly, as Asvyrel bent down to return the hug. Picking the young mouse up, she carried her to her own bed, and silently playing with her, she softly yet melodiously hummed a lullaby, and carefully embracing her, she again carried Milena back to her own room, and softly tucked her in. As she fell asleep, Asvyrel mentally wondered if in the end, Milena would join her as a servant of Death and Drelda.

Silayiver sat in his realm of dreams as he watched Life, Bysrelty, Drelda, and Death rejoined him and sat by his side, again watching fate reveal itself on the glowing map. Nighttime spread its covers over the land, and the sleeping beasts were carefully watched as the map enfolded the past, present, and future. At an odd truce, the five spirits finally fell into light slumber, a time where they did not sleep, but they lay, thinking, planning, and resting for tomorrow's efforts.

Far off north, in the sky kingdom, the birds of the mountains were watching the king…the king who was bringing down his own country, for himself, so he himself could win a war…so he himself would be the one to rule the world…yet his son knew that would never be true, no matter how much he enslaved, tortured, or killed others in protest. That night, as the prince slept in fear, he dreamed about the fate of his mother…

The night moved in silent circles, like a predator stalking its unmoving prey, its dark veil canopying the lands below in murky black. A silent reverie had moved into the shadowy waters of the land when a nightingale's quick melody from somewhere out of the night's reaches sounded in the air. Suddenly, the soothing bell tones of the bird dispersed into a squawk of horror and a loud snap as it fell to the ground, dead.

In the forest, tall, ashen trees with long, spindly, finger-like branches and rustling rosebushes with needle-sharp thorns quivered, waiting for another victim to catch and strangle under the cage of poisoned thorns and sharpened wood. Not a leaf was to be seen, for all the plants were stripped to rotting wood.

The Sky Kingdom was dying.

Queen Miyss, followed by me, Sanica, the Warrior Eagle (in training) circled over the crumbling bricks of the West Sky Kingdom. Hovering over a pine tree, I folded my wings around my chest, plummeting toward its foremost branch. Landing with a small thump upon the pine's shoulder, I cocked my head sideways, finding my Lady perched right next to me. In a motion of simple respect, I scooted over in order to make room for the Queen.

As the Queen and ruler of the West Skies, it had been the simple, but crucial matter of courtesy that her Lady had had to visit the land of her mate, the East Skies. She would have to have a word with him about the treatment of his environment.

Both me and the Queen jumped when we felt a long-clawed talon threading its fingers around our throats. Startled, we twisted around, our eyes searching for the guilty one, only to be rewarded by the crunching of our bones as they gave way under the force of the tightened grip. My outraged screeches drilled into the night's fragile peace, and suddenly, the seemingly empty forest was alive with birds. Ravens, owls, crows, sparrows, starlings, finches, all crowded around her. Long, wooden rods with the customary sharpened steel on top - Starlven, as the Sky Kingdom called them - were clutched in their talons, swinging left and right.

"What is this?" Miyss demanded, choking in her captor's grasp.

The East Skies' citizens stared at her, their expressionless expressions boring straight into the golden eagle's eyes.

Before I could speak as well, two eagles - eagles! - were binding my Lady and my wings and talons together, as well as muffling us with a scrap of silken cloth.

They perched upon the Queen and my shoulders, then beating their wings, lifted us up. The bird that had been choking us had retreated as their new captors took over.

Soon, we were being deposited at the foot of a tall, silver-gray temple. All manner of towers and turrets were scattered all around the main building: a huge, dome-shaped house with windows of ashen glass.

"This is!--" My incomprehensible words were ignored by the two eagles, who were now shoving her forward, toward the door of the dome-shaped house.

One eagle, long and sinewy, skirted around, toward a door in the back. A small, gentle series of knocks were heard from behind, which was replied to by more knocks. Finally, the bird flew back to us, and spoke a few, hushed words in the West Skian language.

Both Miyss and I could easily understand them.

"He's ready," the long and sinewy one told his underling, the short and stocky eagle opposite of him.

"Huh. Thought so," he snickered, shaking his head, "Them Royals want the strangedest of things ever. Imagine!"

The leader glared at his follower in warning, who immediately shut his beak with a sheepish grin.

Meanwhile, I took this in carefully, scanning the words with her close eye...or ear, should she say?

"Them Royals". That was the most interesting. "Royals" were what citizens called the rulers and ministry of the two divisions of the Sky Kingdom. Could they mean the Ministry that wanted her so bound up and undignified? No, the Ministry were indifferent and uncaring birds; they would rather sit back and nap, rather than go to the trouble of capturing a monarch for an interview - a deed that could lead to very uncomfortable circumstances.

It couldn't be the Nobles either, because the muscular bird had clearly said "Royals".

Could it be...?

No. Not even he's that immoral!

I had barely processed the thought when a talon grabbed my shoulder and shoved toward the back door, where the lead eagle had checked before. The stocky one opened the door, and the Queen and I were booted in.

A small, but broad-shouldered young golden eagle stood over her. Long, sleek, tawny feathers shimmered upon his chest and the plume at his tail; pale gold in several different shades glowed upon the small of his back and his neck. Arching forward, large, round fiery orange eyes studied me, flickering from my eyes to my outstretched talons, from my talons to my eyes. After careful analysis of his prisoner, the eagle opened his beak, letting out a booming trumpeting sound.

Queen Miyss attempted to back away, but the eagle bounded forward, easily catching her in his beak. Ripping the bindings off, he suddenly leaped into flight, spiraling upwards. Then, swooping around, he wrapped his wings around his stomach in customary plummeting style, and dove toward the ground, spreading his wings inchingly as he drew closer to land.

Landing with easy grace, wings 160 degrees to the ground. Folding them into his body, the golden eagle stalked forward, lifting his face into the light.

The face was oval, pale and perfect, as if a skilled sculptor had pestled in his pearly features. His eyes were set deep into the section above his high, blade-like cheekbones, which curved downward, shaping his face into a more circular direction. A sharp, rusty yellow beak snapped open, then shut.

When the Queen did not react, when I did not react, the golden eagle's eyes, framed in murky-black lashes, blinked once, twice, thrice?

Next to her, her Lady spoke in her stead. The deep, wizened tones of her voice seemed painfully fragile next to the towering majesty of this golden eagle.

"Why have we been brought here?" she inquired boldly, stepping up toward the young male, "It is discourtesy to treat us in this way."

The eagle didn't answer, busy disconnecting the bindings upon me. His feather's briefly brushed mine as he stepped away, ropes falling to my feet as he did so.

"My Father awaits," he finally croaked out hoarsely, moving aside.

The Queen and I stalked by, royal and imperious - or at least I tried.

"Miyss."

The dark-feathered eagle towered over us, his talons flexing, his beak enlightened by a giddy smile. "Miyss, Miyss, Miyss. What must I do with thou?"

I shivered, glad that it was not me under that cold black gaze, devoid of any flame or life.

"Martyrr, you know that not even thine can get away with messing with me. Thou art not a chick anymore."

The bird's easy stare darkened.

"I do not have to be taught by one as foolish as thee."

Miyss raised an eyebrow, her face clear of any signs of fear. Only cynical questioning.

"Indeed? Then why must I have to teach thou thast to kill thine ally ist to killy thineself."

I cowered in the corner, admiring my Lady's quiet, calm words. If only I could become like her someday...

"I have no need for thast moral teachings!" Martyrr shouted, slashing at the Queen's face with every phrase, "I hast brought thou here to die, to perish, to disappear from this world! We hast no need for weak ones like thee. We need powerful lords, those who dost not hesitate to spill the blood of those blocking thine path. It is thee, weaklings like thee, that hast ruined a kingdom that could become great!"

Miyss dropped to the floor, clutching her bloodied face.

I could not move, I could not help her. I was too scared, the coward I was. I was unable to comfort her at her greatest time of need.

Martyrr gasped for breath, his shoulders shaking with anger. His face was red with fury and outrage, his talons soaked in the blood of his own mate.

"Die!" he screeched.

Pulling the door open, he snarled for his son to come in.

It was the eagle at the entrance. In his perpetual perfection were signs of fear, shadowing every inch of his face as he moved slowly toward his Father.

Was he afraid of what Martyrr might ask of him?

"Inchirkk, my son. It is your destiny to kill her."

Martyrr passed a long, amber-handled blade to the opposite eagle.

Inchirkk shook his head. "She ist my birthmother, no matter what disgrace she might have caused. I cannot betray that fact, Father. I beg thine forgiveness..."

Martyrr froze in his position, the grin evaporating from his face. For a moment, he stood there, teetering between anger and simple surprise.

Finally, he just smiled.

"You have no choice, my son. Birthmother or not, she hast killed thee and thine land. There ist only death thast welcomes her now. Slay her, slay her, my son!"

The young eagle shook his head. "No, Father, please, no." He was whimpering now.

Martyrr's eyes glazed over, and he stared contemptously down at his son. "Now."

"No, no, please--"

"NOW!"

Inchirkk quivered, pain, surprise, fear, and anger all over his face at once. Blood streaked the corner of his beak, for Martyrr, in his fury, had launched a blow toward his own son.

He did not speak. In cold silence, he walked toward the figure of my Lady strewn out on the floor. Kneeling down beside her, he lifted the blade toward the Queen's neck. His wings were obviously trembling as he pressed the sword's edge into her flesh.

"Harder, fool, harder! Slice it down! Slay her, I beseech thee, slay her!"

Martyrr's screams did not help. Inchirkk just sat there, unable to do anything further.

Finally, exasperated, the King walked toward his son.

Grabbing Inchirkk's swordwing in his own, he gripped the sword's handle firmly, and pulling his son's wing backward, brought it crashing down into Miyss, Queen of the West Skies', chest.

Hello…I didn't know that Inchirkk's history/dream would be that long…actually, my friend wrote it, so the credit goes to her. I didn't even edit it, so you might see something here and there. The way she writes is so different from the way I write…anyway, here is me to say farewell. Bye bye.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ssssss…Who daresss awake Zalyssss? Isss that you, Missssste?" A huge female adder luxuriantly shifted position with a soft rustling of dark gold and grey scales. Hissing in recognition, she watched the scarlet mouse proceed unafraid into her dusty red home. It shone brilliant stripes of red and brown in the dim morning light, which only made the skulls and pelts strung on the cavern walls only appear even more fearsome.

"Yes, it is me, Zalyss. I have a favor to ask Sysstra again…"

"Syssssstra…very well, Misssste…issss that for the ssspiritssss?"

"That is correct…"

"Assssk them to give ussss meat…we need lotsss of it."

"Yes, Zalyss. Tell Sysstra to meet us at the water meadows."

"Sssssssssss…" Hissing, the monstrous adder turned, her golden-flecked gaze turning to the back of the immense cavern as she slithered off, the scent of death perfuming the air. Miste felt isolation, then interrupted by a sudden odd feeling at the back of his neck. Narrowing his eyes and smiling insanely he quietly moved his scarlet paw to rest on the hilt of his sgian dhu. It was a beautifully crafted dagger, its hilt bound with blood red and black cloth. It was honed to a point where it could slice a tuft of fur floating in the water, and was stored in a black belt strapped over his chest. Gently caressing the hilt, Miste felt the sensation of somebeast being around increase, he slowly drew the blade from its elaborately carved sheathe, elm wood painted black, with the eerie carving of unimaginable monsters following a crouching fox, whose eyes glinted insanely. Grinning, Miste felt the beast right behind him, and leaping, the scarlet mouse turned into a blur as he leaped to his right, and hopped backwards a pace, and sent a footpaw thudding into the beast's back, knocking it face down. Pressing hard on the creature's back, Miste applied pressure to its back with his knee, and let his sgian dhu slither out of its sheathe to rest at the back of the neck. Seeing the beast's veins pulse wildly, the mouse's smile only widened as he began to apply pressure to his sgian dhu. A small trickle of blood flowed, and the beast's stressed breathing then turned into a sharp gasp. At a closer look, the beast appeared to be an otter; his eyes rolling wildly as Miste's cold blade slowly sank into his flesh. Miste was about to slice the first vital artery when Death and Drelda suddenly appeared, Drelda waving a paw to stop the mouse for slaying the otter.

"Miste. We have another…this beast is no use…he feels no guilt…shame…he has not ever truly killed a beast in cold blood…the other one we have…now she has truly felt guilt in killing…let this one go…besides, there's a war coming soon anyway…" Reluctantly, Miste sheathed his sgian dhu, and watched the otter's breathing become more natural. Taking his footpaw off the otter's back, the scarlet mouse backed off, and watched the male otter slowly push himself off the ground with his paws, and slowly stumble off, a white ember glowing in his eyes, symbolizing fear mixed with anger, and misunderstanding. Miste's frown soon turned into a grin as Death weaved the image of a crouching weasel, crying beside a large stone with crude words etched onto it.

"Heh…this one will be a true fountain for us to dwell on until the war really begins…I wonder what sort of grief and guilt this one has. You found a really good one this time…" Miste swiftly padded away behind the spirits.

Thrift woke up to the busy sounds of clinking of metal and the shaking of one of the vermin guards in charge of her and the rest of the slaves. Holding in a yawn, she watched the other woodlanders groggily wake up. Bowls of cold, sweet porridge were passed to the slaves along with whittled wooden spoons. Thrift also found a small green pouch placed beside her. Mentally wondering about the bag, she slowly ate her porridge, and watched other slaves clean their own bowls with soft moss and place them in their bags, along with their spoons. Looking into her own pouch, she found some soft moss as well, and taking it out, she rubbed her now empty bowl clean, and hastily put it into her pouch as she saw the vermin soldiers filter out of their tents, and formed in squads. Taking the bag, she quickly twined it onto her belt as the other slaves had done. She whispered for Verbena to do the same. The slaves were now wide awake, and absent mindedly, the two sisters watched squad after squad depart into the woodlands. The night black vixen leader signaled out a strange message with her paws, and the ferret from the night before, another grey vixen, and an admittedly beautiful crow with obsidian-black feathers. As Thrift noticed this, she suddenly saw more than just stoats, weasels, ferrets, foxes, and rats in the squads – she saw at least three crows, magpies, or rooks following each squad. Unlike the soldiers, they obviously did not wear the armor or weapons that the vermin soldiers sported. Straining her ears, Thrift heard commands being said by the leader. The leader spoke calmly, but everybeast could hear her.

"Rynn. Take two squads and head south. Stop right south of it, and stay out of sight. Take two runners as well." The lithe ferret chose two skinny weasels from a separate group, then signaling to his group, they left off.

"Rahaak. Spread out five squads around the abbey. Make sure no one comes in, and make sure no one sees you. Watch for Yva." The huge crow bowed and selected five squads from the mass of bodies, and lead out his soldiers, forming a ring of soldiers. His job was to make sure there was a soldier behind each tree around the abbey – it would prevent the abbey members from knowing the threat until too late.

Verbena felt shock run through her as the leader mentioned 'the abbey.' It meant Redwall. If Redwall was facing such a vast horde, with each soldier so well organized and practiced, what were the chances of the few peaceful abbey members against the vermin? Letting silent tears course from her eyes, she buried her head in her younger sister's soft backfur.

"Pearl. Take a tracker and your own choice of soldiers. Sneak in the abbey and try to take a hostage. If that is not possible, ring their abbey bell when no one is around, and sneak off. Make sure you are not seen. If you are, take them hostage or slay them." Nodding, the elusive vixen disappeared, camouflaging in the horde, quietly selecting few beasts.

"Ayda, Casthe. Take a squad to go foraging for supplies." The two guards nodded from the crowd and mustering two groups of their comrades, they moved away.

"Yva. Move the rest of the horde, except the trackers, and the slaves off the path into the woodlands. See me after you are done with that." A young stoat nodded and motioned to the rank-and-file soldiers to clear off the path to gather on both sides, leaving a half-score trackers after much hustle.

"Trackers. Clear out the pawmarks on the path. If you want, take a few soldiers each to help you." Nodding the few beasts left, swiping at the path with mint leaf branches, moss, and other woodland life.

Looking at the path from her disguised position in the woodlands, Thrift realized it would take more than a passing group of woodlanders to free her. It would truly take a miracle, now that the horde had been completely set up.

Asvyrel felt joy tug maliciously at her. Death had told her that the war was just about to start. Unnoticed by everyone else, the scarlet squirrel looked up, and pretended to ignore the shadow of crow, flying high above the abbey. Looking down from her perch on the walltop battlements, she watched the abbess hustle the morning breakfasters inside as the dibbuns began hiding around trees and bushes in the orchard. Claiming that every dibbun that would go inside obediently would get to ask Friar Isaieh for candied chestnuts, Renn soon chased them inside. All except for one sleeping dibbun. Exasperated, the abbess picked him up, and carried him inside. However, as she was about to close the abbey doors, the bell began tolling. Thinking even more of the dibbuns had escaped to ring the bells, the mouse sprinted to the bell tower, and almost screamed when she saw a group of vermin, tolling the bells. However, her screams were in vain, as a shadow seemed to spring to life as a fox extinguished her consciousness and voice with one move of the hilt of a dirk connected with the space between her ears, and a grey-furred paw covered her mouth. Nodding at her small troop, they tugged the bell-ropes one last time, and deserted the abbey.

Pearl stealthily lead her group of beasts into the shadows, and crept out of the abbey completely unnoticed. Then, carrying the limp form of Renn in her arms, she trotted over to Yva.

"Yva, where's the lady? Got her a prisoner, so I got to report." Whispering to the young stoat, Pearl indicated the unconscious white mouse.

"Guess that was an easy one. Milady's in the woodlands – go find Voru, he's right next to her camp. Voru's right over there, behind that birch tree." Pointing at a young sapling, Yva left. Dismissing her troop with a wave of her hand, Pearl padded over to the growing birch, she lightly poked Voru on the shoulder.

"Eh, Voru, I got a prisoner really easily today. I'm going to talk with m'lady, so can you try wiping out the tracks?" Nodding, the ermine Voru obeyed and carefully, he bended down and covered Pearl's troop's pawmarks. Grinning lightly, Pearl bowed as she entered Tear's visibility.

"Pearl. I see that you were able to capture a prisoner. Well done. Now, I have one more thing for you to do before you are dismissed today…

Back at the abbey, Asvyrel was completely knowledgeable about the disappearance of the abbess. It was already evening, and they had not found her. Many had given up, pretending to look resigned and unhappy, but in reality, they felt little grief. Abbess Renn had never really followed what other abbesses and abbots used to do – she had been found from outside the abbey, and really never showed to much considerate love for all the abbeybeasts. Renn had thought of Redwall as just another home…which she had never admitted in truth. What had always rankled her during her time at the abbey was that Martin was the one who told her to become abbess…not like she really wanted to. Renn had always felt some dissent that the abbey beasts had always let Martin tell them want to do, and not let them really be independent.

Asvyrel was perfectly content with the change of events, because she would soon be leaving the abbey anyway, under Death and Drelda's commands. Otherwise, she would become bird food along with the Redwallers as they struggled in the conflict. The only thing that bothered Asvyrel was about Milena…desert her or take her along?

Renn was in a nightmarish pit of dreams that threatened to consume her completely. She shivered as spirits haunted her. Her mother…her mother…

"Mother! No! No! Don't!"

The metallic stench of blood filled the air as Asylli, Renn's father crumpled to the ground, his eyes frozen in shock and pain. Barely showing any expression, Rekkiya, Renn's mother turned facing Renn with an expression that would have chilled the white hot embers of a fire. Renn sobbed as she curled up by instinct from her mother's presence. Curling the long whip, she flicked it at Renn with wicked and evil skill. The fire hot pain burned in to her arm, as she looked at her father's armless body rapidly losing blood. But he did not cry out as his death slowly enveloped him along the thin line along his neck. Renn shut her mouth in a thin line, ignoring the pain she was bearing. Within a short time, she was reduced to the same shocked form of her father, as her mother neatly whipped a thin cut along Renn's throat, and then sat down. Idly flicked her whip to and fro, Rekkiya stared ahead at the snow blanketed ground then stood, and kicked none to gently the bodies out the door. Starting a reluctant ember on a large piece of firewood, she fanned it into flames, and calmly threw it on the wooden floor. In moments, the makeshift home was blazing with fire as she silently sat on the chair watching and enjoying the last moments of her life. Renn stirred lightly with the heat of the huge bonfire, and tried to shut her ears with her nonexistent arms. A laughing sound echoed along with a horrible message burned into her.

"Renn, destroy that place! Destroy it! Destroy it! Destroy it!!!!"

Then blackness had enveloped her.

Renn had been found by travelers a few days afterward. They had seen the burnt and charred house, and the corpse of Asylli. They had taken straightaway to Redwall for her treatment, and due to the greatest good luck, they had the precious Icetor flowers ready for such medical situations. Renn had gotten her arms sewn back on, and with a dose of Icetor flowers mixed with springwater, she had grown much healthier. But the command of her mother's cold spirit chilled Renn to know that one day, Rekkiya would make Redwall Abbey fall…somehow…

Buttercup crouched fearfully as night brought threads of black and dark blue filtering through the sky. Shivering, she watched the ermine healer treat Felys, her cousin Phera's grandfather. Phera was chained right beside her, and in her nervousness, she released her thoughts to Phera.

"Phe-e-era, wha-a-at do-o yo-ou think tha-at they ar-are going t' do-o-o to u-us?" Chattering, Buttercup could barely keep her jaw still.

"Well, Buttercup, look how they're treatin' ol' Felys. It looks as if we're not goin' anywhere soon. Not like they're going t'a kill us anyway." Phera replied confidently, unfazed by the presence of so many vermin.

"Bu-u-ut we-e-e ca-can't stay-ay he-e-ere th-the res-st of ou-ou-r lives!"

"Buttercup, you're too worried. Look, if they had wanted to kill us, then they would have done it a while ago instead of wasting their food and supplies on us."

"I-I-I…gue-ess you're ri-i-ight, Phe-e-era…bu-ut sti-ill…HIC!"

"See, now you've sniffled yourself to the hiccups! Look at the bright side, Buttercup. They've given us food better than scraps, they've barely whipped or hurt anybeast with those whips of theirs, and we barely have anything to do besides carrying this ol' log."

"We-HIC-ell, I sti-ill don't kno-ow…"

"Buttercup. Don't worry about the future right now. Just enjoy the present, while we're still in this peace.

"H'o-oka-ay Phe-e-era…HIC!"

Away from the slaves, Felys was being treated in the medical section. The ermine nurse administered to his wound, carefully adding different herbs. Wishing he could see the beast, Felys lay sprawled face down on a large rock slab, counting little ants as they crawled around beside him. He had not spoken for the entire day, as neither had the ermine to him. Felys was surprised when she spoke.

"I will have to leave now, so just sleep when I am gone. If you want food or water, call him." Stopping, the nurse glanced fondly at another little ermine – a young beast, a child just grown into the age of admission to the horde. The female ermine left, leaving Felys alone with the young child.

"Hello mist'r. That's me mom, and I'm her assistant. Dad says I'm still too young to join the soldiers, so I stick around mom. She's gone t' take care of the young ones in th' horde. Hey, do ye want me t' tell you a story?" Slightly shocked at the vermin's friendly behavior, Felys feebly nodded.

"Ok, so mom and dad and me, we used to live all the way in the eastern lands. You know where that is?" Shaking his head sideways, Felys watched the young one carefully. "Well, we lived there, all alone. My dad was a real good fighter, and he fought off all the intruders off our patch of land. He owned a katana, and he was so good with it, he was able to slice the crown feathers of a hoopoe! My favor'te food was this real thick stew Mom made with the young shoots of a plant called the bamboo. She would put it in a big pot and boil it with sweet corn and maybe some woodpigeon. It would taste so good with her bread sticks. Oh, and speakin' of food, are ye hungry mist'r?" Nodding, Felys admitted to the pangs of hunger burning inside of him. The young ermine jumped and bolted off, then returned with a large basin of hot soup.

"'s made of cress and onions and garlic. Me mom made it – isn't she such a great cook?" Beaming proudly, the young beast produced a ladle, and dipping it in the basin, he slowly and carefully helped Felys turn over and sit upright, and fed him the savory broth.

"Isn't it great mist'r? I brought some scones fer you too!" Taking two scones from his clean smock, the ermine passed one to Felys. Biting his own scone, the young one busily hefted the full basin of soup and sitting by Felys, he made sure it was easy for the old hedgehog to have access to it. "Dip yer scone in there. It tastes great with the soup!" Taking the vermin child's advice, Felys dipped his scone in, and biting it, he almost melted, and smiled gratefully.

"It's good right?" Felys nodded, smiling. "Well, I'll go on with me story. So, one day, Mom is making soup and then all of a sudden, Dad comes in waving his katana around. He started yelling about how there was a huge group of woodlanders roaming the countryside, and how he had eavesdropped on them. He said that they were planning on the deaths of all vermin or something, and they were heading right by the house. So, we pack up, and leave. I take most of Dad's stuff – he patrols our little family. I bring three blankets for all of us, and quite a lot of food. Mom brings food also, but she also brings one of her pretty big pots, and a pan. She also brings some flint, and two of her kitchen knives and a big ladle. Dad takes his katana of course, and travels light so he can easily protect us. So, Mom and Dad and me, we head north-west for so many seasons, an' my mom learns medicine from other travelers, but then all of a sudden meet this horde. Now, Dad easily joined the foot soldiers because of 'is skill with the katana, and my mom became a cook, but she also applied fer the nurse or doctor. I'm still too young for the horde, so I'm Mom's assistant."

"What's your dad's name?" Feebly, Felys coughed out the words.

"Oh, me dad? Dad's name is Voru – he's sort of a minor captain thing, like Yva."

"What does your dad and Yva do?"

"Well, Dad is sort of a squad trainer. Y'know, I think there's a score an' a dozen squads, and three major captains. That's thirty-two, so the lady takes eight, and the major captains each take eight too. Dad trains the beasts about to get admission to the squads – so that means he trains all the young ones like me so they can be ready for marching everywhere. Y'know, in just two seasons I'm going t' join the horde. So, ol' daddy's going t' train me in sword fightin', and Yva's going to train me f'r archery and things like that. On the big march, Dad and Yva rarely get time t' train us, so, that's it. Well, I think Mom's coming back soon, so I got t' take the soup bowl to the younger ones. So, what's your name, mist'r?"

"Felys."

"Well, then hi Felys. My name is Ayu, and Mom's name is Dira. Well, I'll see to you again tomorrow." Allowing Felys one more gulp of the soup, Ayu picked up the basin, and carried it out of the old hedgehog's sight. Sighing, Felys rolled over onto his stomach, and resting his head sideways on his paws, he fell asleep.

Grinning happily, a scarlet figure sat beside a lush green water meadow, with water lilies floating about his paws. Beside him, concealed, lay a young adder, sibilantly hissing replies to the mouse's questions.

"Sysstra…would it be possible for you to enter the abbey and avoid the horde soldiers?"

"Yesssss…"

"Good. Then, get into the abbey, take Asvyrel, and escape. Make sure no one sees you. The horde soldiers will kill you on sight, and so will the abbey members. Asvyrel will be at the orchard – I'll get either Death or Drelda to go tell her to be there. If you can do that, then go to the Brockhall place. We captured an alive prisoner there – she's still alive and kicking, so I'll see to her while you're on your mission. You better stay alive Sysstra."

"Earthwalkersss fear adderssss…for a good reasssssson…Misssste, I will sssssssssee you ssssoon tonight…" Then, melting into the evening forest, the growing adder slithered noiselessly away.

Miste watched her leave, and then darted to a cavern. In it was a large raft, lodged securely there. It had been the hedgehogs' former raft, but the scarlet mouse undid the ropes and skillfully sent it streaming once again, freely in the water. Carrying a metal bell, Miste knelt and knocked on the bell with a copper stick as her held it underwater. Almost immediately, a monster pike appeared, its face fixed in an eerie smile. Taking his sgian dhu and scratching his arm until it bled, Miste watched fascinated as the pike maddened with the scent of blood. Pointing its long jaw down a secret water pathway, the pike charged forward. It knew perfectly well about the secret tunnel, found by abbeydwellers in the time of the historical Rapscallion War.

Tear had eaten little of her dinner of burbot and strong elderberry wine. The seer leader cast bones, feathers, and shells, and watched them fall in different positions on the soft patch of dirt she squatted on. Chanting softly to herself, the jet black vixen watched a grass blade pierce through a red feather; a bone lying on top of a large red shell. The pierced red feather would mean piercing the heart of the figure of Martin the Warrior which was on Redwall's tapestry, and that it would take the work of beasts to take down the big abbey. Tear had already sent Pearl to take a stake and pierce the heart of the picture of Martin on the tapestry. Now, what the fox needed to do was to somehow, using force, take down the abbey…

"M'lord?"

Tear sighed as Pearl came back. "Pearl, is it really that easy to penetrate into the abbey and do such a dangerous thing?"

"Well, milady, no one's on the walltops to stop me from climbing over, everybeast is asleep there, and so how hard could it ever be?"

"Pearl, my faithful captain, what bothers me is how easy this is for you. Out of all our wars back up north, they never were so easy to start off. Something bad always happens to change my luck, yet oddly, the abbey hasn't given me any bad luck yet."

"That's because of all your experience in these battles, m'lady. You know what to do, and what's best to do right now. That's why we all trust you. Everyone around you trusts you. Trust me for a change. It's going to be alright, the taking of the stones."

"I hope you are right Pearl. So, you have destroyed the heart of the Abbey and its tapestry?"

"Aye, m'lord, exactly how you wanted it. Some little carvings were behind Martin, so I lodged the point straight through the tapestry and hit the carvings and left the stake there. Ha, imagine their stupid bumpkin faces when they wake up!"

"Yes indeed. You are dismissed for today, but bring Yva to my tent."

"Yes m'lady. Oh, while I was there, I nabbed a few baubles for you." Unclenching a grey furred paw, Pearl displayed an elaborate crystal chalice, a piece of work made for the Abbot's grace, a gold candle-holder, and beautiful colored glass panes. Smiling in appreciation, Tear nodded.

"Good. Sew them on the banner, so when we arrive at Redwall to show them force, they'll know how easily we can get into the abbey."

"Aye." Bowing, Pearl exited the tent. Shortly, Yva, the minor stoat captain arrived.

"Ye wanted me, m'lady?"

"Yes. Tonight, this is your last mission of the day – disguise yourself and enter the abbey. Disguise yourself as the mouse we caught today, and enter the abbey. Try not to get caught, but create a bridge at the east wall – disguise it with the maidenhair ferns growing on the wall. If you get caught and can't talk out of it, just tie them up and make them slaves."

"Aye, m'lord. I'll start right now, if ye don't mind."

"Tomorrow morning, I expect to see twin vine ropes tied to the elm tree. Take my rapier. I trust you with it."

"See ye tomorrow, m'lord."

"Yes, I will."

"Sssssss…Asssssvyrel…Thissss isssss Sysssssstra, come with me."

"You are here already? Hide in that tunnel – it's behind that bush over there. I'll be there soon." Dashing off, Asvyrel's footpaws barely touched the ground as she padded swiftly to Milena's dormitory. Gently shaking the young mouse awake, Asvyrel whispered silently in her ear.

"Milena…you and I are going on a little trip…come with me." Gently taking the young mouse in her hold, Asvyrel clutched at her tightly as she emotionlessly padded to the window of her own dormitory. Jumping down from the perilous height, a sharp jolt ran through her as the squirrel darted to her secret tunnel, and alerted Sysstra.

"Sysstra, I am ready." Milena froze at the sight of the growing adder, but was glad to see that the adder was on good terms with Asvyrel. Sitting on the broad scaly back of the poisonous snake, Milena watched Sysstra bear her and Asvyrel away. The snake then all of a sudden, ducked into a hole right beside the south wall, carrying Milena and Asvyrel with her. Sysstra slid over sharp rocks that barely bothered her powerfully muscled body as she rapidly glided over them. With startling speed, Sysstra suddenly coiled up, and rocketed over halfway of a large watery cavern, hidden in nonexistent light. Slithering through the remainder of the wet substance, Sysstra arrived, beside a huge boulder in water meadow. Panting with the exhaustion of the rapid trip, Milena jumped off the adder's back along with Asvyrel, to see another scarlet-furred creature, this time a mouse. Then, the mouse spoke.

"Sysstra, your reward still awaits you in Brockhall. Fare you well, my friend."

"I will ssssssee you sssssoon Missssste…I know thisssssss…" Slithering off into the dark woodlands, Sysstra left.

"So, Asvyrel, I suspect this mouse here is Milena."

"She is indeed."

Smiling eerily to the young mouse, Miste took one of Milena's paws, and stared at it intently. Then, covering Milena's paw with his one, Miste stared wide-eyed at Milena's summer-green eyes. Milena felt as if she were drowning as she looked helplessly into Miste's ice-blue eyes. Even more mysteriously, Miste began chanting in a completely unrecognizable language. Asvyrel stared at Miste in shock, obviously astonished at what Miste had seen in Milena. So the three sat there 'til dawn, Asvyrel mentally comforting Milena, Miste converting Milena, and Milena feeling changed as she sat still, unmoving, and beginning to truly understand Asvyrel. Unsaid knowledge passed to the young mouse as she sat there, untiring, and reviving a lost spirit in herself unknowingly…

Silayiver smiled as he watched Milena's conversion. Death and Drelda grinned, narrowing their eyes at the sight. Life and Bysrelty's solemn expressions changed, the tips of their mouth beginning to slant down. Meanwhile, they watched another scene happening in the sky kingdom – trouble, almost to great for the spirits to really hold by themselves…It was a huge mixture of life, rebellion, and death all occurring at the same place and time…The five spirits silently planned away the dark woodland night.

Far off north, in the sky kingdom, the birds of the mountains were watching the king…the king who was bringing down his own country, for himself, so he himself could win a war…so he himself would be the one to rule the world…yet his son knew that would never be true, no matter how much he enslaved, tortured, or killed others in protest. That night, as the prince slept in fear, he dreamed about the fate of his mother…

Martyrr laughed insanely as Inchirkk's frightened expression turned into a horrified frown.

"My son, thou hast never learnt of killing? Thy was taught to do this, thy was never supposed to feel pity. Your mother dost many things to kill our kingdom – there was only death to meet her. What shalt I do with thee, my son?" Martyrr flexed his strong, thick talons, adding to Inchirkk's fear and anger. Answering his own question Martyrr lethally curved beak twisted into an emotion, an excuse of a smile.

"Thou hast dost nothing in thy life, and now thy shalt learn the art of slaying, my strengthless son. We shall conquer! Thee and thy dominions hast no use to me – I want true power! I hast a plan though. Son, dispose of this foolish bird, and I will tell thee of my plan." Wordlessly, Inchirkk let his sword drop from his grasp as mournfully; he picked up the still form of his blood mother. Walking dispiritedly away, Inchirkk could not prevent the snifflings from rising in his throat as a wet, salty tear crawled down from his left eye. Soon, out of Martyrr's chamber, and out of his hearing as well, Inchirkk was sending torrents of salty rain flowing from his eyes. His mother lay prone, unmoving to Inchirkk's sobs. Going to a servant close by, Inchirkk choked out words.

"Bring…thy companions…take my mother away…my…my father, I knew not he could have dost such a thing." Weeping, Inchirkk passed over the corpse of his mother to the servant and walked away to his own room to weep. As he entered his chamber, Inchirkk suddenly remembered the commands of his father. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Inchirkk walked back up hallways, back to his father's chamber.

"I hast just told thee, grief is an unneeded burden thy hast no use to carry! Thy shalt never remember that thy blood mother existed. Now, my son, see this…"

Inchirkk smashed open a window with one of his mighty wings, and began flying away. Enraged, Martyrr called wildly to his soldiers.

"Thy dost be a fool, Inchirkk! Guards! Thee will be rewarded with his pinions if thou hast the ability to catch him. Fools, he dost be escaping!" In a mad flurry of wings, they exited the large hole left by Inchirkk in the glass, attempting to get out of Martyrr's reach. However, when all took flight, Inchirkk was already a mere dot in the clouds, too far away for his father ever to catch him again.

Dashing to the palace grounds, Inchirkk's sword clasped in his wing, Martyrr spied servants carrying Miyss away, to her grave. Enraged, Martyrr dashed over, and knocking the servants flat with his mighty wings, the huge eagle vented his insane rage on the carcass of the Queen, flaying her body to pieces with Inchirkk's sword.

Inchirkk was flying on, desperate to be out of his father's reach. When he felt unable to continue, the mighty bird descended to a stop, landing at a bloodstained beach, where a lone hare was walking to and fro, carrying bodies to the high tide.

"I see thee, hare!" Looking up from his task, the hare responded.

"I see ye too, bird, wot."

"I comest in peace, to escape the wrath of my father. He dost be ruling the west skies, and today, thy must see, Martyrr, my father, hast kilt my bloodmother!"

"So your blinkin' pater killed your mater, wot? Me perishin' fam'ly was just murdered by some vermin, wot. Don't ye bally well know, mate?"

"I dost not know of vermin creatures, hast thee the knowledge of them?" Grittin his teeth, the hare replied.

"Wot wot, I blinkin' well do, those heartless cowards! Well, wot, ye'll learn when I go t' track 'em down f'r revenge, wot. You kin come with me fer now, wot, help me lay me family 'n friends t' rest." Inchirkk nodded, and ceremoniously, he gently picked up cruelly murdered bodies lying strewn on the beach.

"Hare, what dost beasts call thee?"

"Ye mean my name, wot? Well, me top-hole friends use t' call me Nirva, Col'nel Nir. Well, what's yer name, sah?"

"Thy may call me Inchirkk – I was once the prince of the Western skies, but now my father hast spread evil in my land."

"Aye." The colonel glumly nodded, silently depositing the last body into the cold icy tide. "Wot, Inchirkk, let's 'ave lunch, an' then go travelin' t' find me pater's slayer, wot. I'll make sure those bad show chaps ne'er eat lunch agin, wot."

"Yes, yon be right about my hunger. I must tell thee, I am famished!" The two freshly made friends ducked towards a large mountain in the distance.

"I dost be thinking, that is the land called Salamandastron, hast I spoke true?"

"Yes, bally top hole! 'S deserted now, everybeasts' dead, murdered, slain, by those nasty vermin, wot."

"If that be true, I ask thee if we could perhaps dine elsewhere."

"…Aye, wot, I guess so. Let's leave this warrior's home by itself."

"Seeayou, seeayou! No 'scape, noscape! I be Sybil, who be you?" A young squirrel suddenly appeared from nowhere, shouting in a sing-song voice. Her fur was blacker than night, and her eyes shown brightly even with their natural brown color.

"I am a traveler. Dost thou know the way to the vermin?"

"Hahaha! Youspeak funny funny, big birdie! Yisyis, I know vermin, verminbad, bad bad bad." Then, the squirrel darkened. "Youspeak like bad vermin, you be vermin?"

"No, wot ho chap! We're going t' go kill them for me mater and pater!"

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Sybil began to growl. "Allvermin be liar, liar, bad vermin, badbadbad! You be like vermin, I kill you!" Launching herself furiously at the pair, she nearly beheaded Nirva with a vicious swipe from abominably long claws. She was stopped by another, perhaps her companion – another odd looking creature.

"Sybil, Sybil! You be wrong, this be good creature!" The creature intervened the vicious claws, ducking beneath the flying squirrel and pushing her powerfully with her arms in the stomach.

"Ayee! Silmyt, Silmyt you bad too! Bad bad!" Resentfully, the squirrel massaged her stomach ruefully as her companion introduced them to the hare and the eagle.

"I be Silmyt, from allway south, allway south. Meet Sybil on way. We see big vermin horde, kill mountainbeasts. They leave east east, to big red house." Nirva's eyes widened in shock as Silmyt related the words, big red house. The only possible thing in all Mossflower that resembled a big red house was Redwall Abbey – and it was under attack of the same horde that had outmastered the very homeplace of warriors, Salamandastron!

"Wot, the blinkin' abbey! Bad show, bad show, we got t' go t' the abbey quicklike! Double march, wot!" The now three beasts jogged swiftly over the sand, as Inchirkk flew close above, outdistancing the running beasts almost immediately.

"'ey, 'alt there mate! I got 'n idea!" Inchirkk slowed down as Nirva called to him.

"Nir, what does thee plan?"

"Top hole mate, eh. So, Sybil 'ere, being a treewalloper, isn't too good with this sand. Can ye carry her to the abbey first? We'll be goin' by blinkin' paw, wot, Silmyt and mah blinkin' self!"

"All right then. Sybil, get on my back. Nimbly jumping onto the young eagle's back, she grasped Inchirkk's neck feathers tightly as the huge bird rose into flight.

"I shall see thee both tomorrow in the woodlands! Fare well!" Inchirkk screamed out to the winds as he rose to speedy flight.

"Eh, ye think he will, wot? Well, Silmyt, mate, sorry t' be flippin' rude, but what are you?"

"Ha, nobeast knows, I be a springhare."

"Wot? A wot hare? Ye look nothin' like a hare at t'all?"

"I be a springhare. That what I am."

"Er…well, nevermind me, wot. Let's get going! I know th' way, s' east, an' a touch north! Race ye!"

Colonel Nirva sprang ahead, sending clouds of dust flying. Silmyt flew right past him, using his padded footpaws to skim over the sand. Soon, they lay, exhausted by the first few fringes of the Mossflower woodland.

"Time fer a night break, eh? I'll go first watch, you kin go second. Can ye 'elp me find some bally vittles? I'm very well starved!"

After foraging, the two settled down, Nir scanning the landscape around them, and Silmyt curling up into a furry ball. It had just ended their first night.

Lala. I'm tired. Spoiler – Sybil kills Inchirkk! …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..Just kidding. :D Happy April Fools, peoples!


	4. Chapter 4

"Drelda. Death."

The two fox-spirits came at Asvyrel's call. What they saw made them temporarily widen their eyes in a state of shock, unusual for such beasts as them. Then, they regained their composure and spoke, almost accusingly.

"Asvyrel. When did you bring her here?"

"She is Milena; Miste and I have put the signs upon her."

Drelda bent and looked upon Milena's light tan fur. She appeared to not have changed, but on her back, an odd symbol had formed. Scarlet fur created the symbol, so it appeared that one beast had painted the mark upon her. However, the fur had grown 'naturally' during the soul-prayer. Eventually, it would the scarlet fur would spread, and Milena would grow to be a beast much like Asvyrel and Miste. Over the night, she had learned an unspoken knowledge from Miste, and now, she lay silent and staring. Not long before, Miste had stopped the 'lessons' and now, he presented a blade – a sghian dhu. The small blade resembled the one Miste held himself, with the same carvings, and same imprints. What was odd was that for Milena, her new blade's hilt was wrapped in a blue-black cloth, instead of the customary red and black. The converted young mouse took the marvelous weapon, and unsheathing it, she examined the flawless blade. Asvyrel took out her own blade – the completely exact replica of Miste's and placed it on top of Milena's own blade. Miste then drew his own blade, and placed it above the two others' blades. Together, the blades crossed for a brief moment, then, they all concealed their little blades – small, yet deadly as they were.

"I live to serve the beasts of Silayiver; to the death shall I be on the side of Death and Drelda. My words will confirm the oath of my ways, and I shall never leave the command of my masters. Vulterae."

"Death, I ask you to take her to the pike for her first blood-giving. I will see to Laskka. Asvyrel, come with me. Drelda, I ask your pardon, but may you find our…"

"Yes I will. Milena, go with Death." Drelda spoke calmly, yet inside her, there was another beast, narrowing her eyes at Miste.

"Miste. What did you tell that one about Vulterae." Unfazed by the menace from Drelda's voice, even though this was odd to see from Drelda's straight face.

"I only told her to the extent of power he has over the southlands."

"Should you have told her more, trouble would have begun. Beware Miste, do not reveal our secrets to her so carelessly yet."

"Yes. Well, I shall see you next evening."

"Very well…find Laskka soon. He is to leave early next morning. It will be once again the mountain journey. Leave now."

"I shall." The scarlet furred mouse departed, beckoning for Asvyrel to follow. The two headed north east, loping at a silent yet steady pace. Grasping edible plants as they whipped by the woodlands, they made a cautious circle around the huge vermin camp by Redwall. Chewing on little odds, the duo steadily bounded from tree to tree, in the woodlands they knew better than most all others. Soon, the two beasts reached the Mossflower River. They solved the problem of a bridge by throwing a steel grapnel accurately at a tree bordering the other side of the river. Asvyrel swiftly crossed the dangerously bobbing bridge, and then, grasping the steel grapnel in her steady paw, she bounded up the tree. Reaching a reasonable height, she signaled to Miste, and then swung him like a pendulum across the mighty river. Then, the two dusted their paws, and continued their journey northeast. By midday, they had the pine grove in front of the mountains in sight. Cautiously the two bordered around the treacherous crow territory, and soon were granted the sight of the mountains, standing forbiddingly tall. Breathing heavily, the two rested, to prepare for the mighty trek up the mountain.

Yva found it perfectly easy to slip into the abbey at night unnoticed. Though there still were some confused beasts wandering, the young stoat was perfectly fine with avoiding the clumsy beasts. Entering the abbey, she delightfully inhaled the scent of scones in the oven, honey, and various other aromas. Seeing it would be no trouble entering or leaving the abbey, Yva took the freedom to creep noiselessly into the kitchen. There, Friar Isaieh snored lightly, perched atop of bags of flour. Trying to restrain herself from laughing at the foolish friar's sleeping body, the stoat stealthily opened an oven door. Opening her little green pouch, she emptied its contents – a bowl, a spoon, a flask, and a small knife. Biting down on the knife, Yva carefully poured warm honey into her drinking flask, and filled the bowl with scones. Carefully covering the warm scones in the bowl with a purloined napkin, she placed the whole thing gently into her pouch, not spilling a single crumb or a drop of honey. Placing the knife back in its proper place in her pouch, Yva grabbed one last scone from the oven, and noiselessly shut the oven door. Dipping her spoon into the honey gourd, the stoat spread the honey over the warm scone. Biting on the scone, she smiled, finding it delicious. Shouldering her pack, the stoat departed, nibbling a honeyed scone and chuckling softly. Just as she left the kitchen, Yva grasped a pawful of flour, and stealthily made woodlander pawprints to the dibbun's dormitory. Then, carefully wiping her paws clean of flour, Yva blended in with the shadows, and spirited out of the abbey. Making sure that no one saw her, Yva walked quietly to the east battlements, covering her tracks as she went. All went fine until she heard voices as she crossed the orchard. Swiftly concealing herself behind a tree, she carefully listened to the two beasts, walking on a night stroll.

"Ye know, mate, things 'ave been mighty queer lately, don't ye think so?"

"Aye, jus' earlier, there were traces o' adders by the south wall!"

"Tha' doesn't 'elp us know where ol' Abbess Renn, an' Asvyrel h'an' ol' Milena went, ye know."

"Maybe the serpent jus' ates them all."

"Nah, if it did, then we'd be all dead by now. An' the abbess disappeared e'en before tha', donchaknow matey?"

"Well, it still is mighty queer. Y'know in abbeyschool when we were learning 'bout ol' Tammo an' the oth'rs from the Rapscallion War?"

"O' course I do, mate."

"Well, tha' adder – it escaped through that 'ole where the abbey chums found th' treasure." Yva perked her ears as she heard the statement, but nevertheless continued to listen.

"So y' say? I dunno wot or how tha' big adder foun' tha' blinkin' pit!"

"Mate, my fav'rite thing t' listen to in abbeyschool were tha' war."

"I know, ye violent wardoodle! Well, le's go get some scones f'r midnight snack!"

"Y'sure?"

"'Course I am, wot."

"'ey, can we go see tha' 'ole ye talk't 'bout firs' mate?"

"Sure, why not?"

The sounds of voices faded, and Yva laughed at their antics under her breath. They had just told her about their treasure. The treasure – perhaps even the treasure of legend which Tear had been lusting for. But for now, she had a mission to do. Creeping silently from her hiding spot, Yva stretched her spine, and almost naturally began to head to the east wall, hiding in every dark shadow a wall or a stray tree provided. After silent padding and covering of tracks, the stoat arrived at her destination. Crawling up the lukewarm sandstone steps, Yva soon found herself on the battlements of the east wall. Great clusters of ferns were everywhere – they grew in every crevasse which offered so much as an ounce of safety or comfort. It took only moments for the stoat to scout out two tough vines, thick and dark green, growing on the outer side of the walls. Grasping one of the thickest, Yva cautiously swung outwards and down, and using her own medium-sized sickle, she pried the strong growths until they hung, loose and swinging. She did the same with another vine. Then, accustoming her eyes to the darkness, Yva soon spotted a few crows, ravens, and magpies hovering behind, or beside trees. Softly whispering to two of the birds, she quickly conversed with them.

"You two, what are your names?"

"I am Raska. My brother here is Takla."

"Raska, Takla. When I am on the walls again, take these two vines, and tie them to the elm there."

"Yes. Understood." The two crow brothers each took hold of one vine, and softly fluttering, they winged to the elm near by. Tightly grasping the vines, they then again signaled to Yva.

"We cannot tie the vines."

"Oh yes. Hold tight onto them. I'm swinging over." The stoat swiftly drew a short length of rope from her belt and holding the two edges over the vines, she swung onto the vines, but loosing momentum halfway, she was left dangling. However several other carrion birds saw her attempts, and so they came and flew behind her, gently but firmly pushing her so she ended up, squatting perilously on the elm. Waving brief thanks to the birds, she turned to Raska. Taking the vine from Raska's hold, Yva swiftly tied a secure knot, and then hopped from tree limb to tree limb until she was resting beside the night black feathers of Takla. Dismissing the two birds, she grasped Takla's vine, and quickly tied a bulging knot. Then, disguising the ropes as growths from the large elm, she hollowed a crevasse into the tree, and began cutting planks so that when the planks were to be balanced and held by the two vines, it would form a perhaps unsteady, but firm bridge. The wobbly paws of other soldiers would most likely not make it, but in Tear's horde, every pair of paws was as sure as mighty oaks when it came to obstacles like these. After shaving plank after cut plank from the tree, Yva stowed them each in the crevasse, which she made into a real hole with her sickle. After making a score and a half planks, Yva stopped, muscles cramped with tension, and paws sore. Smiling ruefully, she stowed her tools in her belt, and hopped dangerously down the limbs of the mighty tree. By the time she reached ground, the sun had already sent cautious rays of sunlight into the sky. Swiftly padding away, Yva reached camp, and quietly reported to Tear. Yva received a nod and a swift smile as a reward, and then, the stoat reached her part of camp. Posting a guard, Yva curled up beside a tree, and made herself a small bed. Taking out a scone and some honey, she nibbled the treat away, and by the time she had finished, she felt rested enough. No orders for her today until after midday.

Friar Isaieh snorted as he looked at the flour pawprints leading out of his kitchen. Dibbuns again…checking the oven, he was sure of it – the evidence again lead straight to them, and even scones and some honey were purloined. A pile of napkins lay, mussed up in a corner. Snorting, the good otter friar walked, not even needing to follow the flour pawprints that lead to the Dibbun's room.

"Runktipp! Blunner! Admit it, ye two've been up t' mah scones agin!"

"Friar…we ain't dibb'ns much, we're 'bout t' grow outta dibb'n-age…" Blunner, Isaieh's son looked down as his partner, Runktipp the hedgehog spoke.

"Aye, sah. We's were gone out t' get some scallions h'and watercress f'r ye, but when we got h'across t' get h'into th' abbey agin, Badg'rmum Riha saw us an' tol' us t' get some more an' shoo off f'r the elder's council. So, we's two go went t' get more's, when we see's forgott'n strawb'rry bask't! We…" Blunner took up from the hedgehog.

"Pa, we's jus' ate fours, and then we start'd to go in th' abbey agin, but the doorknob thing were's too high, and we both has a full paws so we can't knock. We then goes to see the adderthings and look down the pit, and then come back. Ma was at th' door, an' took the wat'rcress h'and scallions h'and strawb'rries. She says 'Yoho you two be goings to bed,' so we goes to bed. But me stummick be's a rumblin' and we missed a dinn'r, so we gets up and looks f'r some food…"

Throwing a glare at the two scuffling friends was hard to do, even for the friar. The glare soon softened, and the friendly friar shook his head with silent laughter.

"Hoho, ye two certainly are h'a pair o' good 'earted rascals. Come wit me, I'll see ye git some more vittles t' make up for las' night. The elder beast took the two young ones skipping away to the kitchen, where the friar handed them a reasonable sized pie for the two to share.

"Get that down twixt the lot o' ye. Aft'r tha' ye kin help yerselves t' mah friar's treat. Heh, don't ye be tellin' anybeast o' the Friar's Treat, or I'll be 'avin' full kitchens ev'ry night an' morn." The otter set up a little table out of firm sacks of flour, and placed the pie along with two plates and forks for the dibbuns to eat. Then, groping around in the back of the oven, the friar took out a little cake – it was like an oversized scone. Damsons lined the sides of the cake, and meadowcream was piled on the top. Slices of strawberries were put here and there, along with candied chestnuts hidden inside. Taking two of them out, Friar Isaieh handed one each to the ravenous dibbuns, who were stuffing down blueberry pie. Chuckling at the sight, the friar began arranging breakfast, singing lightly as he did.

Asvyrel had already started the trek up the mountain – with her natural climbing skills, she helped Miste in many perilous parts of the climb. Together, they reached a low ledge, but a very flat one, and safe in a way. Here, the two rested the few minutes they could spare in the afternoon – it would be a long while before they would be able to rest once again. Even their tough muscle strained bodies would be in a fatal position if they felt any twinge of strong fatigue or the numbing of cold paws. Warming their paws, they undid small pouches, full of soft moss. Warming the moss over the embers of a little fire, they once again put the moss back in their pouches, and put the pouches under their own cloaks, so to receive the most heat possible. Warmth would be a complete necessity, and without it, they would be put under dangerous circumstances while climbing. Slowly, and painfully they began the steep ascent. If they were lucky, perhaps they would reach Laskka by late evening. The huge monitor lizard had once been a cold-blooded creature – depending on the sun for warmth in the tropical islands to the west. However, one day, the creature had been captured, and was taken to the cold eastern lands, where snow fell so often. Laskka had been beaten to accepting and adapting to the land, fighting to survive the torment of his captors. It had continued this way, until one night, the lizard was in the brief comforts of slumber, when the banging of a spear awoke him. A weasel leered at him through his cage bars, and began jabbing at the lizard with his spear into the small cage, laughing hysterically at the lizard, trying to dodge about unsuccessfully in the tiny room. Then, the weasel walked off, perhaps to get his friends to help him torment the imprisoned monitor. But the weasel made one fatal mistake, leaving his spear leaning against the cage door. Laskka had stuck a frostbitten limb out to reach the weapon, and then grasping it, he pulled the spear into his cage, breaking the spearbutt off so that the spear could fit into the tiny prison. Waiting for the weasel to return, Laskka had begun to fiddle with the lock, and fumbling at it with the spear, he soon had the door, loose, and ready to swing open. The weasel soon returned with a stoat and a rat, all laughing cruelly as the weasel retold of the torment he had caused upon the lizard. As they reached the cage, the weasel snorted in surprise.

"Eh, where'd me good h'ol' spear go? 'ey, scalebottom, ye seen me spear go anywhere?" Leaning against the cage, he sneered. Laskka then readied his spear, and charging out the door, he had slain the weasel and his friends in a matter of seconds. The assassination was swift, and disarming the rat of a bow and a quiver of arrows, the monitor lizard notched an arrow onto the bowstring, and aiming carefully, the monitor lizard let the arrow fly, straight through a large tent and into the shadow of a fox, wearing a helmet with a tall plume and a swirling cape. The shadow screamed, and horde beasts flooded out, searching to kill the killer. But when they turned to see the broken cage of Laskka, it was too late. An abandoned set of arrows and a broken bow was all that marked his existence. He had disappeared. Being driven north, Laskka had adapted to the cold snows that fell, and soon learned the ways of the northlander. How to stay warm, how to avoid others, and how to survive. He had learned from another survivor – Miste.

Renn woke up to an abominable pain in her skull, which throbbed relentlessly as she stretched a cramped neck. Her senses slowly came to her as she yawned lightly and rubbed her eyes. Opening them, she was first surprised, then perplexed when she saw that she was not in her abbey dormitory. Green rays of light shone through the leaves that rested on the limbs of trees which surrounded her. Normally, the abbess would have felt calm at seeing such beautiful aspects of nature, but she felt unusually disturbed by the silence. It seemed as if the twittering birds were being forced to twitter, and not do it naturally, and it seemed as if something were causing the woodlands to feel nervous, and just follow their regular 'schedules' to pretend nothing was about, and they didn't know a thing about the woods. Renn slowly began to recall the events of the day before, and groaned. She tried to stand up and walk a few steps to explore where she was, when she found that her waist was tied to a large tree. Not even bothering to crane her neck and examine the tree, she immediately began studied the rope. It was tied securely around her, going around her waist to circle around the bark circumference of the trunk. The rope's knot was at the opposite side of the tree, so there was no way she could really escape. The rope appeared to be extremely thick, and it would take some sawing even with a blade to cut it. Hopelessly looking at her surroundings, Renn found food placed in front of her feet. Looking at it, she felt pangs of hunger earlier unnoticed rise in her. Reaching down, the mouse could barely reach it, even as flexible and slim as she was. However, when the mouse grasped the bowl of porridge and the spoon already put in it, Renn had it held in a vise like grip. Slowly straightening her back, the captured mouse spooned mouthful after mouthful of the porridge into her mouth, when all of a sudden Renn noticed a beast coming towards her, a good two score paces away, but still coming. Setting down her bowl, Renn waited as a shadowlike creature came to confront her. Renn's first thought was the beast who had captured her the night before, but this beast – it was a vixen, fur completely black, so black it did not resemble the natural gray shadows seen ordinarily. Stiffening, Renn hear the fox's first words.

"Greetings, hostage. I am Tear."

Phera awoke to the shakings of Buttercup. Irately, and in a clearly annoyed voice, the hedgehog spoke sharply to her nervous cousin who was again in another fright-stage.

"Phera! Phera!"

"What now, Cuppie."

"It's Buttercup, not Cuppie. Anyway, do you see that thing over there?"

"Where."

"There by the river ford. Don't ye see?"

Scrutinizing the far away water, Phera saw nothing odd about it. It was clear as always, except for some shadows in the water.

"Nothin's wrong there, 'cup. Ye seein' thing h'again?"

"Phera! No, do you see, in the water, those dark things?"

"…Aye, I do…"

"Those are pike! I've ne'er seen so many at once!"

"Buttercup, I know tha' ye 'ave better blinkers than I do, but are ye sure ye ain't imaginin' things?"

"Phera, I'm not!"

"Okay then, wha' bae those things ov'r there?" Pointing to the river once, again, Phera indicated a black figure standing by the river. Buttercup squinted, then replied astonishedly.

"My word! Phera, ye've seen the horde lead'r 'round camp recently right?"

"Aye, saw 'er jus' earlier, givin' ord'rs t' th' ferret captain's runn'rs."

"Well, ye see tha' black thin'? It looks jus' like a fox – black an' all, except f'r h'it can't be the Tear beast thingie, 'cause…well, h'it looks different."

"Eh, tha's odd. Do ye know wha' tha' brown-red thing there be?"

"I think tha' would be h'a mouse – odd fur, or maybe just wearin' somethin'."

"Butt'rcup, wha'ddya think they's be doin'?"

"Well, I am not to be knowing. Say, y'know, they cannae coom 'ere, 'cause, well, ye see, firs' we be hidden well enough, second, lookie all th' soldiers 'round 'ere. No dang'r from them, eh. Fox 'n mousebeast, odd…"

"Aye, well, they ain't goin' t' do anythin' to this 'orde. No worries eh. Kinda odd, captured by vermin, but safer than before. Le's jus' sleep – nothin' t' do right now."

"H'I guess ye're right. Hawwwoof, I am tired, wake me up f'r dinn'r."

"Uh-huh, yep, g'night, or h'is it g'day?"

Buttercup did not reply – she was already yawning fit to sleep in seconds.

Back in the infirmary 'station', Dira the ermine healer was again tending to Felys' injury. Administering a potion to the hedgehog, the mother whispered lightly to the hedgehog.

"Hello. My son tells me your name is Felys – is that not right?"

"Aye, it do be Felys."

"Alright…do not speak too much – it will do you no good. My son, Ayu will be tending to you soon once again. Do you require food or water currently?" The old hedgehog shook his head, in a voiceless 'no,' and Dira nodded.

"Very well. I shall be tending to the young ones – if you feel any strong pain, show this to Ayu right away. This is the final stage of your cure, so if you feel anything, you must show this to my son right away. If I fail to arrive on time, you may be crippled for life." The kindly ermine smiled, and handed Felys an amulet. It was queerly carved – resembling an adder, wrapped around a vial of some liquid. The thing was elaborately painted, making it seem eerily lifelike – the adder held golden eyes, that stared frighteningly out at the holder of the amulet.

The healer left the camp, and soon, the young ermine beast trotted into Felys' sight. Grinning, he smiled, and talked to the hedgehog, but replied mostly to himself.

"Hello, mist'r. Ma says yest'rday, when I told ye th' story, ye almost heal't bett'r. So, she says to tell ye a story h'agin t'day. 'S that h'okay sah?" Felys nodded, and Ayu launched into the story.

"So, this time, Dad and Mom and me are already wit' the horde – this is the biggest battle I remember the horde had. If y'didn't know, the lady 'as h'a ship – a huge one, they say bigg'r than the one of Vilu Dask'r's time. We moor it in this secret place onshore when we're not usin' it. So, this time, we're sailing on it – the ship's called Night 'cause it's painted black – and we're going t' attack this place call't Sampetra. Now, legend says tha' the island had once been full o' vermin, but this time, we see nothin' so we go search th' island. Tales say tha' th' legendary six pink pearlies were in Mossflower, not on th' island, but however, the sist'rs, the six white pearlies were in the castle treasure. Y'know, the castle there was all abandoned-like, and in one room, guess what we found! There was a dead poison-snake – mom says coral snake – in this room full o' treasure! Gold was as plent'ful as dirt, and we looted th' place bare. Eh, makes us sound like scavengers, but it was worth it. We traded h'all ov'r th' west seas, getting all our weapons, supplies, h'and things like that. Then, one day m'lady wants t' find wha' happened t' the six pink pearlies. 'er shells 'n omens said tha' h'it was gone, but we didn't get what they meant by gone.

"We goes h'all ov'r the coasts, askin' beasts about th' pearls, but almost none o' the beasts we see 'ave ever even 'eard about the pearls. Then, one day we sees this liddle 'ut by the sea. We surrounds it quick-like, and m'lord asks them 'bout the pearlies. The pa o' the fam'ly says nothin', but tha' just told us tha' 'e knew quite h'a bit 'bout the pearls. The ott'r fam'ly doesn't tell us anythin', 'til we show them ou' pris'ners. Th' pa gets all mad, an' began demandin' freedom f'r the slaves. Well, m'lady said it would be a bargain, if th' otter dad told us 'bout th' pearls, we'd set a few slaves free, dependin' on the likes of what the information was. So 'e tells us long h'ago some Redwallers threw th' pearls t' sea 'cause they think tha' they 'old too much sadness h'and grief and bloodshed and things like that.

"M'lady doesn't like tha', but 'cause she got somethin' called honor, the lady almost sighs, but she sets two slaves free. The otter dad says he 'as more t' tell though. 'e says tha' ottermum could tell more. So, we talks to the ottermum, and she is afraid of us, but talks. She says tha' long h'ago, before h'even this Redwall was built was an old old castle. There had once been this odd lord, who had ruled it, and for some odd reason, the lord would always be playing with these gemstones. All the time, this crool general would be making all th' decisions for the beasts livin' in th' lord's land. One day, some woodland'rs rebel at the general, and the general flees to the lord, who is playing with 'is gems again. This is th' hard t' believe part of the legend – they say, that th' lord suddenly slew the general, and then just disappeared! Jus' like tha'! However, 'e left one o' is treasures be'ind, a rooby. Now, when the woodlanders look't at it, they saw tha' there was this moving steam-ish thing inside it. Then, they realized it was a spirit locked inside the gem! A permanent soul or spirit catcher! Aye, I doubt th' tale, because so few h'and almost none tales of these times exist nowadays. Eventually, the beasties abandoned tha' old castle, and later on, Verdauga h'and his daughter took over, and made th' castle Kotir. After h'awhile, Kotir was beaten down into rubble by woodlanders, and they made Redwall. So, h'as the tale goes on, the former lord of the castle had buried his gems in his treasure pile, which was eventually added to the treasure pile of Verdauga. H'and if it be true, then the spirit catchers are buried beneath Redwall! Wha' is really weird is tha' they say, Martin is in one o' those spirit catchers which prevented him from going t' the Dark Forest. Tha' maybe why 'is spirit is felt all th' time there, but 'e came after th' lord of the former castle, h'and we still don't know 'ow old the gems are.

"The ottermum sighs, and then we sets half o' all ou' slaves free. Tear leaves, but then, when we goes t' board th' ship agin, the otter dad blows this loud whistle, h'and all o' a sudden, we're attacked! Woodlanders everywhere, shrews from th' northeast, hares from th' south, 'edgehogs from th' south east, otters an' squirrels from the due east! We do fights 'ard ye see, an' we immediately start battlin' back t' back, every squad defendin' h'itself. Ye shoulda seen Rahaak – the crow captain. You could see him h'and 'is crows, they were h'almost dancin' h'in formation, like a wheel o' death. By th' time woodlanders retreat, they've been three fourths wiped out. We 'ad been one half wiped out, h'and considering are original total numb'rs, tha' was h'a lot. Grievin' went for seasons h'and seasons, but we h'all hardened up. Oh yes, the survivors h'all have scars t' show f'r tha' 'uge war, which even me and some oth'r young'uns were all that were left to guard the ship as the older soldiers fought onshore. T'was a bloody battle, none in this 'orde will forget." Just as Ayu finished the tale, Felys began coughing and immediately signaled to the ermine with the amulet. The healer's son immediately sprung up, and ran away, swiftly to return with his mother, both running lightly through the woodlands. Panting lightly, Dira quickly took out herbs from her pack, and putting them in a pot already bubbling over the fire, she looked to Felys.

"Felys, this is an herb that will put you to sleep. I will need you to inhale the smoke it gives. You can either do that or stay awake in the operation – it will be quite painful if you stay conscious. Which would you rather do?"

"Sleep…"

"Very well."

Dira tied a cloth around her muzzle, and doing the same for Ayu, she threw herbs swiftly into the fire. A smoke drifted into the area, making the hedgehog feel dizzy, and fall helplessly into slumber. Dira took out a scalpel from her pack, and slowly began working on Felys' back to get the arrowhead out.

Milena sat with Death. The black fox instructed her carefully, as several pike swarmed hungrily beneath the water surface.

"Lay the blade on your wrist." Milena did as he said, and laid her sgian dhu carefully on her wrist, completely unafraid as the blade rested, ready to shed her blood at a moment's notice.

"Do not cut – just flick the blade." Pressing harder on the small blade, Milena quickly twisted her blade-paw, sending little trickles of blood flowing into the clear river water. The young mouse flinched slightly at the pain, as Death continued speaking.

"It is to cut into your soul, and to be able to give some away without losing a drop of it. Pain is a reminder that you cannot live forever, like spirits can. However, some who have practiced this art of giving can be pardoned from the Dark Forest. Those that are spirits can touch the air of this world, and still see the ones they love, or look after. Now that you have learned to give, you shall learn to take." Taking Milena's paw in his own, Death placed his black furred paw on Milena's wrist. Expecting to feel pain, the young beast was surprised to see that when Death took his paw away, the blood dribbling from the cut had stopped flowing, and the cut was already on the way to recovery. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards at seeing Milena's temporary surprise.

"Spirits can feel the presence of each other. Spirits can take in or abandon the beasts of the world. When you begin to learn, you will be able to feel the presence of spirits in the world. As I can feel the presence of Drelda, to the west of where we stand."

The odd pair carefully walked away – Death hovering just above the ground, Milena learning how to disguise her tracks, and to travel swiftly in such woodlands.

"Yva. Yva."

"Eh wot? Oh Voru, invasion time?"

"Aye. M'lady's doing this mission – loner, with you."

"Goin' t' talk t' the woodlanders now. Mmm, I'll be out in a second – lemme get me bow and arrers."

"'urry up Yva."

"Alright, alright. Comin'."

The stoat leapt up, a quiver of arrows strapped to her back, a longbow held tightly in her left paw, a sickle thrust through her belt, and a small pouch resting in the place where normally her food-pouch would be.

"Voru, kin ye take care o' me liddle green pouch?"

"Aye, just 'urry up mate."

The stoat tossed her green pouch to the ermine father, and then left, bounding after her leader, standing, waiting a few score paces off. Wordlessly, Tear began loping to the east wall at a steady pace, with Yva right behind. Looking at the elm tree, Yva quickly shinnied up it, and helped Tear. Carefully drawing out the bridge planks from their hole in the tree, Yva laid them down on the two concealed vines. She would lay one plank down, and balance it between the two vines. Then, walking on that plank, the stoat would place another plank in front of the first, and walk on the second plank. It went on similarly like that, until the two were standing on the battlements of the east wall. A few late breakfasters saw them, and began charging hurriedly away to the belltower. Calmly, Yva dipped the point of an arrowhead into her little pouch – which was full of poison – and notched the arrow onto her bowstring. Tear drew one of her many throwing daggers from her belt, and smiled. All of her daggers were stored in sheathes that contained something horrifyingly cruel – the mixture of laburnum, hemlock, and poison oak, boiled with very little water, create an extremely lethal poison in concentrate. As the first in the group of woodlanders, a shrew charged forward recklessly, he was quickly dropped by a poison, arrow. Those behind him seemed to falter at the sudden sight of death, as the shrew screamed painfully. With an unnatural booming voice, Yva spoke.

"That arrow was poison. I have plenty more poison arrows for you all, but either you can let me master speak, and receive this antidote from me, or you can let that shrew die, along with the rest of you."

"Give us the antidote and we'll give you our attention."

Yva drew a hollow piece of wood, which resembled a cork. Its liquid contents swished as the stoat tossed it into the air, and it landed in the paws of the squirrel which had spoken. The squirrel quickly opened the little cap, and forced the contents down the shrew's throat. Cautiously, the squirrel listened to the black fox speak.

"I have captured your Abbess. Oh, before I tell you about that, I would like to introduce myself. I am Tear."

Laskka snorted. He had last eaten a few nights before, and the next morning, he would need to eat. His completely hardened scales rustled and almost screeched as the monitor lizard curled up in his little home. It was a small cave, high up with a sizeable ledge in front of the cave. A fire blazed close to Laskka, who curled up in a corner, salvaging heat from the cold air. Little piles of bones were scattered here and there – of the bones lay outside on the ledge, or scattered about the mountain. Meat…the lizard had never lost the complete and dire need for it, and that was one characteristic in him which had not changed his entire rugged, unpredictable, and cruel life. The monitor had survived in the hardest of times by depending on greens, but they failed to nourish his already bony body. His strong muscles looked small, but were capable of massive strength, and though his body looked frail and bony enough to crack at the slightest wind, Laskka barely noticed when the northern storm blew down on his ultimately hard scales. Night had never been enjoyable, never in his entire crooked life in the cold forbidding mountains. The lizard owed to the odd mouse, to have learned the way of the north. In the north, battle was as ordinary as the clouds drifting in the sky, as was bloodshed and death. Laskka had tried to move south, but constant feelings rushed through him, which made him feel the cave had always given the slightest feelings of home. In the south, there was warmth – paid with the price of even more danger, and the possibility of capture. The monitor lizard had already been under circumstances of capture – to go under such cruelties threatened to make the already dangerous lizard become insane, a killing machine, blind to thought, and go under the permanent bloodwrath which only badgers could really go through – but even then, the bloodwrath was temporary.

Bysrelty commented dully to Life.

"Death and Drelda – they got another one t'day."

"Y'mean last night."

"Same thing."

"No, it isn't."

"Oh well."

A silence ran between the two. Then Life spoke.

"Bysrelty, y'think we should start talkin' t' Mup again?"

"Mup…what kind of name is that? Her name is Remup."

"Remup…what kind of name is – "

"Jeez. Whatever. Yes, we should start talkin' t' her. I wish I was alive sometimes. I love smelling her pies. Gaah… gee, Life, I'm tired. We worked so hard t' get it going so well, an' then Death and Drelda start t' mess it up. H'o well. Silayiver'll balance it in th' end. Let's go look at th' map again."

"Why?"

"Don't ask why, just do it."

"Why?"

"'cause you're an garlic nosed onion bum."

Sybil sighed in boredom. She had flown on Inchirkk all evening, and had enjoyed the aspect of being so high in the air. Towards night, the squirrel was disappointed as Inchirkk landed into a tall oak tree in the stretched of woodlands. Inchirkk had told – no, commanded her to stay there as he rose to fly higher, so high into the sky he became invisible in the night sky. It was already afternoon on the next day, and the young eagle had not returned. The squirrel had satisfied her hunger with acorns scattered about the tree, and had nibbled a scone in her traveling pack as she looked up, irately scanning the sky for signs of Inchirkk. Far west, Colonel Nirva and Silmyt were already loping steading through the lush woodlands.

"Nir, I no see these plants south. What be this?" The springhare looked curiously at a birch tree.

"Tha's h'a bally birch tree, eh. T' tell the truth Sil, I'm starvin', wot. Ye 'ave any vittles?" The southern beast replied in his clipped tones.

"Nay. If we be with tree, tree should have fruit or nut."

"No tucker? Bally sad, wot, no tucker, lack a day, but at least we're in this woodland. Top hole, apple tree over there!" The hare darted to a wild apple tree, which sported little green fruits among completely leaf covered branches. Biting appreciatively on one, the hare commented talkatively on its taste.

"Owooch, me bally chompers! Apples, eh, harder than rocks, but taste okay I guess. 'ey Sil, can I borrow that bag o' yours, wot?"

"Aye."

The hare took the bag from Silmyt's shoulders, and put several apples in it.

"Oh my, lookie there, wot! A damson tree, top hole, top marks, wot!" The hare scampered to the tree, and stuffing the bag and his mouth with damsons, Colonel Nir soon spied some wild raspberries growing beside a towering aspen tree. Chortling in delight, the colonel bolted them, then taking off his pink mess jacket, he arranged it into a basket and stuffed it with raspberries, and some blackberries he spied.

"Wot wot! Bally top hole place, even has some strawberries, top marks, wot, sheer top marks!" The two beasts sprang around, filling the bag with apples, damsons, raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, grapes, ramsons, watercress, nuts, and all sorts of edible woodland produce. Settling down comfortably for a noon meal, the two creatures gladly ate, delighting in the gifts Mother Nature had given them. Putting flint to steel, Nirva soon had a delightful little blaze burning with pine needles and dry grass. The embers flickered in the cleared patch of ground, and the hare cheerily stabbed the apples with peeled green sticks, and roasted them over the flames. Munching joyfully on the fruit, Nir took some raspberries and smashed them into a paste, and dribbled their juice onto the roasted apples.

"Top hole tucker, wot, let's make some soup with th' ramsons 'n watercress 'n nuts. Maybe some damsons too, and we kin also make some mint tea with those leaves I saw earlier. Cummon Sil, 'elp me 'ere, wot!"

"Nir, make zoop you need wat'r. Le's pick mint leaves, go find wat'r."

"Oh, good point sah. I 'ave me old 'elmet 'ere, so we kin boil our jolly ole soup in it, wot. Ye pack oop the bag, h'and I'll go put out th' fire an' get soom o' those mint leaves we saw h'earlier. Cummon Sil, wha's wrong?" Silmyt froze, and stared up at the sky.

"It'z Inchirkk bird."

"Oh, aye. Ahoy there, wot! Inchirkk, ahoy there!"

"'hoy there, hoy there!" The two travelers yelled at the majestic bird hovering low above the treetops, obviously searching for something. Then, at hearing their voices, the eagle swiftly dived, and landed among the colonel and the springhare.

"Good show, wot. 'ey, ye took Sybil to th' abbey h'already?"

"There be many vermin for thee to see there. The bird you see hast taken th' squirrel to a tree beside the abbey thy spoke of. I dost ask thee to hurry, because the place hast already been surrounded by badbeasts thou shalt know of."

"Er, aye sah, ye fly back t' Sybil, h'and get 'er into th' abbey. We'll start traveling posthaste, wot! Inchirkk, fly ahead, me 'n Sil be right behind – er, below ye." Nirva quickly shoved dirt over the low embers, and grasped several mint leaves, and stuffed them into the bag. Inchirkk circled into flight, as Silmyt took hold of the bag, and Nirva hefted his sling and his dirk. The three began a fast race, each skipping forward with speed natural to their kind. Inchirkk flew ahead, and Silmyt ran swiftly after him, with Nirva right behind Silmyt, brandishing his dirk at the woodlands, and on lookout for danger. Nirva mentally reviewed the state of the three travelers. Inchirkk was on the run from his father, Nir himself was on the prowl for revenge, and Silmyt and Sybil…They were supposedly trying to join forces with Nir and save the abbey from the vermin. Loping steadily through the woodlands, Silmyt began slowing down, having to avoid the increasing amount of trees in the area. The springhare's black-tipped ears were laying flat against his head, and his long brushy tail trailed like a streamer behind him. Often as not, Nir felt the tickle of the black furs at the end of Silmyt's tail against his legs, and had to slow down. The traveling became harder for both flat-landers, but with hard-pressed running, the two arrived at the tall oak where Sybil perched, nonchalantly waiting for them. The sun glared at the small party, Sybil chattering impatiently to a heavily panting Silmyt and Nirva. Inchirkk continued to scan the sky nervously, and reported to Nirva.

"I shalt have thee know that this army thou hast spoken of has birds of flight amongst their ranks of fighters. It seems I would be a coward to tell thee this, but it would be folly to have Sybil and thee to enter the abbey. Thy plan must be improved, or I shall not stay here much longer, for my father has been flying uninterrupted, so thee will have to leave me soon."

"Mmm…'ey, Inchirkk wot, if you kin risk it, can ye just fly 'n hide in the abbey? Ye don't 'ave much time t' spare, donchaknow, so I kin 'elp me 'n me mates get in with subterfuge, wot. Ye better do it quick, big bird, 'cause your pater'll be flying over the horizon pretty soon."

"Farewell."

"Aye, wot. Bad show, soldier in the ranks lost. Thinkin' caps on now, wot, or we're going t' be on bad terms with 'undreds o' big eagle birdies pretty soon."

Dun dun DUN! Vermin in the abbey, enemy birds over the horizon, monster lizards being awoken, what else? Shall the existence of Redwall finally fall to the end after the long proud seasons it had lived on? Huge cliffhanger… :D Will update as soon as possible!


End file.
